


By the Seaside

by ficdis



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Armie and Timmy are on the lam, Armie has a spot in the hills, Armie learns about his mother, Armie perseveres, Cavorting, Hopeful and promising ending, Legal Shenanigans, M/M, Men can't cavort, Nothing Gold Can Stay, Pet Names, Reference to characters passing away, Timmy is an actor, Timmy’s mom is pissed, brief reference to suicide, the applause will be thunderous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27915706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficdis/pseuds/ficdis
Summary: While working as a bartender at an island resort, Armie meets and develops a friendship (and then perhaps more than a friendship) with Timmy, a guest and budding actor from NYC. Months later, Armie finds himself in NYC dealing with his mother’s estate. He reaches out to Timmy, but before he realizes it, Armie unknowingly ensnares Timmy in his family’s web of legal shenanigans. Armie ultimately decides he must stay away from Timmy. But nature and her cunning ways — years later, Armie freezes mid-step when he sees Timmy amongst the guests at a dinner party. Will Armie continue to stay away?
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 46
Kudos: 57





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a [C-SPAN interview ](https://www.c-span.org/video/?77139-1/dossier-secret-history-armand-hammer)with journalist Edward Jay Epstein about his 1996 book _Dossier: The Secret History of Armand Hammer_ and an interview where Armie Hammer spoke fondly of growing up in the Caymans. This fic is a stretch for me, but here goes...I hope it’s readable.
> 
> *****This is pure fiction. Family trees, ages, and places have been flipped on their head. The island is fictional*****

**Prologue**

When Daya asked thirteen year old Armie where he wanted to live, Armie said by the sea. Daya knew just the place and swung her travel pack on her back. They rode a local bus to the outskirts of town, walked to Victoria’s storage locker, opened it with the key on the chain around Daya’s neck, and grabbed Armie’s duffle bag along with a briefcase of important papers. Next, they rode two local buses to a train and took the railroad into Grand Central Station in Manhattan. After a short walk from the station, the two entered a nondescript office building, rode the elevator up to the top floor and walked into a shabby two-room law office. Armie parked himself in the waiting area. He took his game console out of his pocket and began playing with it. Daya walked into the office and remained behind closed doors for a very long time. Eventually, Daya and a man walked out of the office.

“Hi Armie. Remember me, I’m Devon,” the man said as he looked down at Armie. Devon was a large, husky man. He would be scary to most but seemed to have a fondness in his eyes when he looked at Daya and Armie.

“Hi,” Armie returned.

“Daya tells me that you and she are going to live by the sea. I have to get the paperwork ready so that the two of you can get there. It’s going to take a couple of days. I’m going to take you both to a nearby hotel, where you can stay until everything is ready. Is that okay?”

“Okay,” Armie said softly. 

The three walked to the Roosevelt Hotel and Devon checked Daya and Armie in. 

In the morning, Daya and Armie had bagels and cream cheese for breakfast. Then they went to Central Park and walked around until Armie complained of hunger. They stopped at a cart and had hotdogs from a man, who said he was from Bangladesh. They passed FAO Schwarz. Armie had to go in, to check it out. Well, there went their day and Armie spent hours in the famed toy store. Daya was happy though because Armie looked happy, at least for a few hours. After that, they only had time to peek at Rockefeller Center and never made it to the Empire State Building. 

The next day, Devon showed up at the hotel early in the morning. Daya and Armie repacked their bags, and Devon checked them out of the hotel and drove them to JFK International Airport. On the way to the airport, Daya coached Armie on what to say should an Immigration Officer question him. When they arrived at JFK, they checked in with no issues. They boarded the airplane and it took off on time. Daya and Armie fell asleep almost immediately and slept through most of the flight. 

When they woke up, they had landed and were on an island—an island surrounded by the waters of the Caribbean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seven plus years later...

**Part I**

The personnel manager forced Armie to transfer due to employee misconduct. 

“My hands are tied, Armie. I tried to stop him but the guest insisted on filing a formal complaint. He didn’t appreciate you cavorting with his girlfriend. I’m sending you over to Amantes,” the manager said. 

Armie shrugged, but had to admit to himself that he was going to miss the generous tips. He knew they were not going to be as good at the sister resort, which was a more mellow and couples oriented resort. People did not visit there for fun. They went for alone time and relaxation. He walked out of the manager’s office, got on his moped, rode two miles along the shore road and went to Amantes. He asked for the hospitality manager and she put him to work right away covering The Rum Hut, a thatched roofed bar off the beach. There was not much to learn. All the bars were pretty much set up the same.

He stood at the empty bar and surveyed the guests. Like Armie suspected, they definitely seemed like ‘the lay out on the beach all day, maybe spend some time at the spa, don't really care about anything local’ type of crowd. Amongst the sea of older guests, the most interesting was a young couple. What were they doing here? Newlyweds, he supposed. They stood out like sore thumbs and must have just arrived, since they were not sporting tans. Even from afar, Armie could tell that the woman was beautiful - blond, fair, soft. The man’s face was not clearly visible. He was sporting a baseball cap with dark hair wildly jutting out, sunglasses and large headphones. 

He lost interest in the couple, about as quickly as they had caught his attention. Actually, he felt himself losing interest in everything around him. He decided at that moment he would quit. This place was not for him. At least, at the sister resort, he was busier. He had many distractions. Well, his dick had many distractions. But he would have to find another job or his guardian Daya would insist that he go off to college, and he was not ready to deal with that. He was not sure what was next for him. All he knew for sure was that he wanted to go to California to visit Nick. He missed his best friend. Life was different, since Nick and his family left the island and returned to the States. They messaged each other regularly. Nick even invited Armie to come for a visit, maybe even stay a while to see if he liked it out there. Daya was not going to be pleased about Armie going to California. She was very protective, and California was just too far away from the island for her taste. He knew that it would be a fight, that he would have to find a way to gain her support.

“Hi, do you have any Pellegrino?” the young man in the baseball cap walked up to the bar and asked. 

“Sure. Do you need two bottles?” Armie asked. “I saw you and your wife pass by earlier.”

“Wife? Saoirse?” The young man laughed, as if the thought was ludicrous. 

“Sorry, your girlfriend,” Armie corrected, as he looked at the man’s left hand and did not see a wedding ring. 

No, just friends. One of my best friends. But just friends.”

“Curious, why did you choose at a couple’s resort then? Do you work in the business?” Armie asked and placed two bottles of water on the bar.

The young man looked Armie up and down and smirked. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you how we wound up _here_.” 

“Try me.”

“Well, let me get this to Saoirse. Don’t go away.” The young man grabbed one of the bottles and took off.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Armie said as he leaned against the bar and folded his arms across his chest. Armie watched the man walk away. He wore denim shorts, striped polo shirt, and flip flops. Armie watched him again as he returned a few short minutes later without the cap and headphones. He had an interesting gait and pulled his shorts up with one hand each time it fell below his waist. He pulled out a stool, planted himself at the far corner, and rested a tattered paperback face down on the bar.

“Can I get you anything else besides water? Any interest in trying any of the local spirits. We’re known for our rum. It must be five o’clock somewhere.” Armie moved the water and rested it in front of the man and smiled at him. 

“Nah, water is good for now. By the way, everyone calls me Timmy,” Timmy said, holding his hand out to Armie. 

“Armie.” Armie shook Timmy’s hand. “So, how did you and your friend end up here?”

“Dude, you won’t believe this. My friend works in an ER in New York. One late afternoon, a wedding party came in. Turns out the groom and best man show up at the wedding service drunk out of their minds, completely fucked up. Groom falls out right in the middle of their vows. Bashes his head up real good. Bride starts beating the shit out of the best man for allowing the groom to get that way. An ambulance had to be called. My friend was on duty. Groom had to be treated for a concussion. Best man had to be treated for lacerations. The bride was freaking the hell out. The ER doctor and my friend Saoirse manage to take care of everything, admit the groom, repair the wounds, and calm the bride down. Saoirse had to give her something to help with the anxiety and just hug her.” 

Timmy opened the bottle and took a sip of water and continued, “Needless to say, there was no marriage in the end. But it turned out that the bride was a travel agent. She returned to the hospital and gave her honeymoon to Saoirse. So, she’s here for eight days. I’m hanging with her for the first few days. Then her girlfriend comes and they’re here for the rest of the time. Saoirse thought it would cheer me up. I’m an actor. Right before I came here, I found out that I didn’t get a role that I really wanted.”

“Wow, that’s a first for me and I’ve heard some pretty crazy stories since I’ve been working in the resorts. So, you’re an actor? What kind of acting do you do?”

“I do everything. I just love it so much. Theater, film, TV. Just need a break.”

“How did you get into it?”

“Always knew I wanted to do it. I went to a performing arts school. I’ve had a few small roles.”

“That’s so cool. I don’t know what I want to do. My guardian wants me to go to college, but I want some kind of inkling before I do that.” 

“I hear you. If I wasn’t acting, I don’t know what the heck I’d be doing.”

“So, what are you going to do during your time here?”

“I don’t know. Saoirse will be out of it for a couple of days. She worked these crazy shifts right before we came down. She’s probably exhausted. And dude, I’m broke. I know...the broke actor stereotype. Guess I’ll catch up on some reading, listen to music, take it easy, get a little sun. What do you suggest?”

“You should get around and see the island. It’s truly beautiful. I’ve lived here for over seven years now and I still marvel at its beauty. If you like the water, there’s diving, snorkeling, fishing. And if you like the hills, there’s some good hiking up there. There's also some good golf. Then there is all the touristy stuff like zip-lining, swimming with dolphins, party boats and rum tours.”

A stout young man with tight curly red hair and freckles rolled a stack of boxes behind the bar hut. “Hey Big Guy,” he exclaimed.

“Excuse me Timmy. I have a delivery I have to take care of.” Armie walked over to the delivery guy and slapped his hand. It was more of a high five than a handshake. “Redd, my man. How are you?”

“Big Guy, I heard they transferred you over here. For cavorting!”

Armie shook his head. “Guess the whole darn North Coast knows by now. I hope Daya doesn’t find out. Think I’m going to quit soon anyway.”

“Once things cool down, you should be able to go back. This sleepy place is definitely going to kill you though in the meantime. You won’t get any action _here_. Where should I put this rum? We have a delay with the reserve but I’ll bring it by tomorrow.”

“Just leave it there, and I’ll unpack it and break down the cartons. No need for you to do it.”

“Thanks Big Guy.” Redd stacked up the rum behind the hut. Then he went inside the bar area to have Armie sign the delivery receipt. He came to a standstill, when he saw Timmy sitting at the far corner of the bar. “Well, fuck me from behind! Who is _that_ angel sitting there!”

Armie looked up at Redd, to see his mouth hanging open. He followed his stare over to Timmy, who sat, oblivious, mindlessly chewing on his bottom lip, flipping through his book. Then, as if he could feel their eyes on him, Timmy looked up and smiled shyly at Armie and Redd and said hello.

“Well, hello there.” Redd moved closer to Timmy and held out his hand. “Everyone around here calls me Redd.”

“I’m Timmy.”

“What should we call you, Timmy?” Redd asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well Timmy, down here, everyone has a pet name,” Redd explained. 

“Yes, my given name is Timothée but everyone just calls me Timmy.”

“But that’s just a shortened version of your name. That’s not a pet name. Like me, I’m Redd because of my hair and I’m sly like a fox,” Redd said, batting vulpine eyes at Timmy. “Armie here is Big Guy, because he’s—”

“I’m tall,” Armie said interrupting Redd, shoving the receipt in his hand.

“No, because he has a really big dick and all the ladies love him,” Redd covered his mouth and whispered loudly.

Timmy laughed. “I like you. You’re funny.” Timmy put his paperback down. Redd had his full attention.

“I’m sorry.” Armie flushed as he looked at Timmy. “Redd, Timmy is a guest. Please don’t get me in trouble with another guest.”

“You’re a guest! Timmy, you’re too young and cute for this place.”

“That’s okay Armie. He’s funny. So Redd, you should give me a pet name.”

“Honey, that’s an easy one. You are Cherub, because you are a fucking angel. Right Big Guy?” Redd punched Armie’s arm playfully. “But Timmy, why do I think that you could have a little devil in you?” Redd winked.

Redd’s phone rang. He turned away and answered it. When he was done. “Okay Big Guy, gotta go. It’s Boss Lady. See you tomorrow at the same time with the reserve.” He turned to Timmy. “See you around, Cherub.” With that, Redd was gone.

“See you Redd,” Timmy was still laughing, amused by the delivery man.

Armie mixed up a rum swizzle and slid it in front of Timmy. 

“Armie, what's this? I didn’t order a drink. I literally can’t afford this...and to start so early.”

“Bartender’s special. Don’t worry about it.” Armie went back to his bar duties, arranging the bottles of rum, filling out the bar log, breaking down the delivery cartons.

“Thanks Big Guy!”

“Don’t go there. That Redd. He’s a piece of work.”

“I don’t want you to get into any trouble. What happened with the other guest?”

“Oh nothing.”

“Oh, come on. You can tell me. Pretty please.” Timmy playfully pouted. Armie smiled at him. 

“I was written up for cavorting at our sister resort.”

“Cavorting. What does that mean?” Timmy asked.

“A guest caught me with his girlfriend.”

“What do you mean...caught you...caught you doing what?”

“ _It_.”

“Dude, where were you doing it with the guest?”

“In their guest room. She gave me her key. I went. That happens all the time. We were doing it, and her boyfriend walked in and like saw us and complained,” Armie explained matter of factly.

“Weren’t you afraid he would knock you out or something?” Timmy asked. 

“No, I was bigger. Figured I could take him if it came to that.”

“Because you’re a Big Guy.” Timmy pointed at Armie. “Gotcha!” They both cracked up.

“Seriously, weren’t you nervous?” Timmy asked when he recovered from his laughter. 

“Nah, three things usually happen if the guy walks in. They want to watch. They want to join in. Or they get upset. This guy got upset.”

“Dude, how often did this happen?”

“All the time. You should go over there. Tomorrow, on Wednesday nights, it gets wild. You can shuttle over there and check it out for free. It’s all part of the same conglomerate so you can move between the properties if you want. You can even bring a guest for the day.”

“Saoirse will never go with me. That’s not her thing. Can _you_ go with me?”

“Timmy, I don’t know. I shouldn’t even be hanging with the guests.”

“But I’m a guy. So, they can’t really say that you’re cavorting with me. Please Armie. _Pretty please_.”

Armie smiled at Timmy. He found him so easy to talk to, to shoot the breeze with. He liked the guy and knew he would be fun to hang with. He had not felt such excitement, such instant affinity, meeting someone new since he befriended Nick in school. He looked at Timmy and smiled. Redd had definitely hit the nail on the head. Timmy did look like an angel, but he hoped that he was wrong about that devil bit, when he heard himself saying, “Okay, okay. I’ll swing by and get you. We’ll head there around eight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **By the Seaside Playlist**  
>  Nellie McKay ~ _Caribbean Time_ ~ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-RBcNLYZHb8  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Armie and Timmy make plans to see more of the island.
> 
> Thanks for going on this journey with me.

Armie felt like he was invading Timmy’s privacy, but he could not help himself. He was fascinated as he stood in The Rum Hut, clandestinely flipping through the beat up copy of Arthur Miller’s _Death of a Salesman_. Even though he went to an American international school, most of the literature he had read in school was European. He had never read or seen the play. From the looks of the book, Timmy must have read it countless times. There were highlights everywhere inside and he must have played or researched Biff, because he seemed to interrogate this character the most by the sheer volume of notes and questions in the margin. 

Armie had not seen a lot of live stage acting on the island. There were tons of concerts and live music was pretty much everywhere. In the wealthier enclave on the west side of the island, there was a performing arts venue and orchestras, operas and ballets passed through. Armie was not into that so he did not know much about it. As he flipped through the book, he wondered what Timmy was like on the stage. He would have to remember to ask him when he had a chance. A guest walked up to the bar and asked for water. He hastily tucked the book on the pull out tray he used as a chopping board, gave the guest a bottle of water and went about straightening up the bar. 

“Good morning. Big Guy!” Timmy said walking up to the bar, with a smirk. 

“Cherub!”

“Can I please have a Pellegrino for Saoirse?” Timmy said and tapped his hand on the bar. 

“Sure thing,” Armie said and handed the bottle to him. “Do you want anything?”

“Not yet. I’m coming right back. Don’t go away.”

“You know I’m not going anywhere.” Armie watched him walk away. He was wearing a white t-shirt, black shorts and his flip flops. The shorts seemed to sit on his waist so he was not pulling at it the way he did with the denim ones. Armie continued to watch him as he returned. Timmy met his eyes and they smiled at each other. He went and sat in the same stool he had the prior day. 

“By the way, I think you left a book. We have it here somewhere.” Armie feigned looking around the bar area, eventually pulling it from the chopping tray and handing it to Timmy.

“My _Salesman!_ Thank you! I thought I lost it. I was looking everywhere for it,” Timmy exclaimed, holding the book in both hands as if it was the most precious thing in the world. 

Armie stood back and leaned against the bar, arms across his chest, pleased to see how happy Timmy was. “ _Salesman?_ ”

“Yes, only one of the best classic American plays ever.” 

“I never read it. From the looks of it, you look like you’ve read it a lot.”

“We did a production of it in school. But I also read this book in different places. I’ve never read it more than once in the same place. And every time, I get something new out of it. Is that strange?” 

“No, that’s when you know something is well written. It’s like it’s evolving. Also, you’re evolving. Each moment, you’re different. And then when you’re in a different place having a different experience, you’ll probably see it differently. I get it.” Armie nodded his head. “The only book I ever read over and over is _The Outsiders_.”

“ _The Outsiders_. Why that book?” Timmy asked. 

_It was in my ‘if anything happens to me, get my son away from here’ duffle bag. The bag my mom packed. I wanted to read it but she wanted me to hold off. Did she know that when I found it I would be ready?_

Armie shrugged. “Found it in my stuff one day and read it.” Armie began to pour rum, grenadine and his special blend of island juices into a shaker over a heap of ice. He jiggled the shaker and strained the mixture in an ice filled highball. He was about to reach for the standard orange slice to use as garnish but changed his mind and picked up a cherry instead, tossed it on top and slid the glass in front of Timmy. 

“Armie, what’s this one?”

“Planters Punch. See if you like it.” 

“Thanks!” Timmy sipped the drink. “Yummy!” Timmy dipped the straw in and out of the glass stirring the ice. Finally, he said to Armie, “So I have an embarrassing question for you. Not sure how to ask it.” 

“Just ask it Timmy. I won’t answer it if it’s weird.”

“You said...when you were cavorting, three things would happen. What do you do when the guy wants to watch or join in?”

Armie chuckled. “If the girl was up for it, I would let them watch. I sort of get off on it. But no video.”

“And if he wanted to join in?”

“No, none of that. Just watching. If they are good with joining in, then they’re usually good with watching. Besides, I don’t really get joining in. I feel like I’m busy searching for my own pleasure. Then I’m trying to get the other person off. I just couldn’t handle having to deal with or compete with someone else. Too much going on. So, I don’t get threesomes. What about you, would you want some other guy to join in?”

“Dude, I’ve only had a couple of girlfriends, none really serious. I’ve done nothing near what you’ve done. Okay, one more question. What if another woman wanted to join in?”

Armie pursed his lips, thinking. Finally, he said, “My position would be the same. Too much going on. What can I say Timmy...I am a one-on-one type of guy.”

“Hey Big Guy!” Redd exclaimed as he walked up to the bar area with the day’s delivery. He quickly stashed the cartons in the same spot that he placed them the prior day. He went behind the bar and looked around. He lit up when he saw Timmy sitting at the bar. “Cherub!”

“Redd!”

Redd walked over to Timmy and leaned over the bar, resting his elbows on it, cradling his chin between his fingers. “So Cherub, how long are you here on the island? And please tell me you’re not going to just stay at the resort the whole time,” Redd said. 

“Armie told me that there is a party at the other resort tonight. So, I’m going to check that out.”

“Oh oh,” Redd clapped his hands together excitedly. “Someone is going to Wild Wednesday. Well, have fun Cherub. Everyone should do that at least once. Be safe. What else?”

“That’s all I have planned so far. I leave on Saturday.”

“That’s it. And Saturday. So soon!” Redd said, outraged. “Big Guy, we can't have Cherub just hanging out in this hut. We have to get him to see the island.” 

Armie had just mixed up a pitcher of piña colada and was placing it along with glasses on a tray for one of the waitstaff. He looked up and said, “Well, Thursday may be a wash, depending on how crazy things get tonight.” 

“I know. You should take him up to your spot,” Redd suggested.

“What’s Armie’s spot?” Timmy asked. 

Armie walked over to them. “Sorry, not enough time if he leaves on Saturday. I have to work Friday. If you want to do it right, you need a day to hike up, camp out overnight, and head back down the next day.” 

“Oh no,” Redd said, throwing his fist up in defeat. 

“What’s Armie’s spot?” Timmy asked again. 

“It’s not _my spot_. I just go there a lot.” Armie turned and pointed south to the mountains in the horizon. “A waterfall in the hills on the South Side of the island, if you are into that. A lot of artists come and paint or photograph it, write poetry about it.” 

Armie turned around and locked eyes with Timmy. “It sounds beautiful,” Timmy said softly, biting his bottom lip. 

“It is,” Armie returned just as softly. Unwittingly, his teeth move over and grip his own bottom lip.

Armie and Timmy’s eyes were still locked on one another. Redd observed them, his pupils darting between the two before settling ahead, knowingly. Finally, he said, “Too bad you have to get home on Saturday, Cherub.” 

“Well, I don’t have to get home on Saturday. I’m leaving because I was just keeping my friend Saoirse company until her girlfriend gets here on Saturday.”

“So, you can leave Sunday or Monday?” Redd asked. 

“Yeah, technically. I would have to change my flight. Saoirse would probably be okay with me staying on the pull out in her suite but I really don’t want to do that...you know, I would have to hear them.” They all have a good laugh about that. 

“Well, if you took Island Airways down here, we can change your flight. My sister works there. I can get her to change your flight for free,” Redd offered.

“Yes, we did take Island Airways down here. It was fun. The flight attendants dance in the aisles. We even did the limbo,” Timmy said. 

“Do you want to see if we can change your ticket? Then you can go to Big Guy’s waterfall.”

“Well, I don’t want to put Armie on the spot. I don’t know if you have plans,” Timmy said shyly. 

“We can go, if you are up for it. It’s a bit of a hike,” Armie warned.

“This is what you could do. Change your flight to Monday. Check out of...I mean leave the resort on Saturday as planned. You and Armie head up to the hills and come back on Sunday. Cherub, you’ll probably need a day to recover. Armie, do you think Cherub can crash at your place for one night and then we can get him to the airport on Monday for his flight home. Daya should be okay with it, right?” Redd asked. 

“I would have to clear it with Daya. Timmy, we’re in a two-bedroom bungalow. So, you would have to crash on a cot. If you are cool with that, you are more than welcome.”

“I’m good with that. Thanks man.”

“Big Guy, why don’t you check with Daya. In the meantime, I’m going to run to the little boys’ room. When I get back, we can call my sister.” With that, Redd ran off to the restroom.

“Armie, are you sure about this? Redd is moving quickly and I don’t want to impose and mess your weekend up. If you don’t want to do this, it’s totally cool.” 

“Timmy, it’s cool. I would love to share the hills with you. I think you’re gonna love it.”

Armie pulled out his phone to message Daya. Armie hated bringing new people around. It was always such a production with Daya. He reluctantly typed away in his messaging app. 

_Armie: DAYA!_

_Daya: Sweetness, why are you hollering at me? You ok?_

__

__

_Armie: Met a nice guy, an artist, at the resort. Want to take him up to see the hills._

__

__

_Armie: Head up Saturday. Come back Sunday._

__

__

_Armie: Need a place for him to crash on Sunday. Okay if he stays with us? He leaves Monday._

__

__

_Daya: Does this nice guy have a name? Where is he from?_

__

__

_Daya: You know, I have to check him out._

Armie looked over at Timmy, who was looking at a passage in his _Salesman_. He debated whether to ask Timmy for his details or just look him up in the resort registry. To avoid any awkwardness, he decided to look him up in the hotel system. After a few quick minutes searching at the terminal at the bar, he easily found his name and proceeded to send this information to Daya. 

_Armie: His name is Timothée Chalamet from New York City. He’s with a Saoirse Ronan._

_Armie: Need to let him know soon. He’s trying to finalize his travel plans._

Redd returned to the bar area. “So, are we all set? 

“Just waiting to hear back from Daya, but we should be good. Timmy, you should go ahead and make the changes.”

“Okay, thanks Armie. Redd, let’s do it,” Timmy said.

Redd pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Hummingbird, I need a favor. I have someone here who needs to change his plane ticket. Can you hook him up? I don’t want you all charging him any of your crazy airline fees. It’s just not right! I’m going to put him on now.” Redd handed his phone to Timmy to go over the details with his sister and stepped over to chit chat with Armie at the center of the bar.

Armie was finishing up a pitcher of frozen daiquiris. “Redd, you’ve been here awhile playing travel agent. You’re not going to get in trouble with Boss Lady, are you?” 

“Nah, I should be good. Daya good?”

Armie poured out four cocktails and placed them on the tray for the waitstaff. “I messaged her. Haven't heard back yet. She should be good though. If not, Timmy and I can just camp on the beach or something.”

“Ah, you don’t have to do that. If anything, he can just come back here for one night. His friend should be okay with that, right? If it wasn't a Saturday night, we could have probably sneaked him into an empty suite.”

“It’ll be okay,” Armie assured him. 

“Okay, I’m all set. Man Redd, you may be in the wrong business. Sure, you don’t want to work in travel services,” Timmy said as he handed the phone back to Redd. “I can’t thank you enough. Both of you. If you’re ever in New York and I’m around, I’m going to definitely repay the favor.”

Redd picked up the delivery receipt. “No problem. Well, I have to go. Have fun tonight at Wild Wednesday. But let me leave you with this Cherub— _Foxes are red, rum is good, drink too much though, and honey, now no wood!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the Reddit thread on rum jokes for poetic license on that last line.
> 
>  **By the Seaside Playlist**  
>  Nellie McKay ~ _Caribbean Time_ ~ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-RBcNLYZHb8  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Wild Wednesday at Amantes’ sister resort - Lujuria. Timmy drifts through the evening, while Armie anchors him.

Lujuria’s Wild Wednesday was in full swing and the night was just beginning. Armie and Timmy stood on the balcony overlooking the dance floor of the dimmed ballroom. There had to be hundreds of revelers dancing to the pulsating music blasting from the sound system. As neoned strobe lights waved through the room, tanned, bare chested men and women could be seen gyrating and grinding on one another. Barely cladded waitstaff circled the perimeter skillfully balancing trays of rum drinks and colorful shots that were deceivingly lethal. 

“So, do you want to explore on your own or would you like me to curate an introduction to Lujuria’s famous Wild Wednesday for you?” Armie asked Timmy. 

“Don’t leave me. I feel like this is going to be a crazy ride.” Timmy grasped Armie’s forearm. 

“You say that now. Wait until you find some hot girl to run off with.” Armie elbowed Timmy. “Okay, so this is the main ballroom, where most people hang out. If you just want to dance, drink and have a good time, this is where you want to be. Several DJs will roll through over the course of the night.” 

Armie pointed to the corridors off the ballroom. “There are several smaller lounges for those with particular tastes. One has male strippers. Single ladies like that. One has a cabaret, burlesque type of show. You may actually like that, being a thespian. One has adult comedy. And there’s a fetish lounge, if you’re into that kind of stuff.” 

Finally, Armie pointed to the beach that could be seen through the floor to ceiling windows of the ballroom. “Last but not least, there is the beach, which is clothing optional, and pretty much anything goes on there. So, do you want to head down? And you have my number, right? Just check in every so often if we split up. I promised your friend I would bring you back in one piece.” 

“Okay man. Will do. Let’s head down,” Timmy said and hit Armie’s chest playfully. 

The two descended the stairs into the revelry. Once his feet touched the dance floor, Timmy began bouncing to the rhythm of music. Armie stood casually sizing up the scene. 

“Dude, tell me that you are going to dance,” Timmy said, raising his voice so that Armie could hear him over the music.

“I don’t do dancing,” Armie shouted. 

“What do you mean you don’t do dancing?”

Armie shook his head. “I don’t dance.”

A group of girls motioned for the two to join them. Armie shook his head but pushed Timmy forward. One of the girls, a cute blond, grabbed Timmy’s hand and dragged him on the floor. Armie quickly lost sight of the mop of dark curls. 

Armie walked around for a while and chit chatted with some of the security team. The night was going well so far. No trouble yet but undoubtedly something would come up, something always did. Armie gave the dance floor a once over to see if he could locate Timmy. He spotted him sandwiched between two girls, all three swaying in a synchronous rhythm. Armie smiled to himself. Timmy had one hand extended in front of him, wrapped around the neck of one girl, and the other hand extended behind him around the other’s waist. Someone looked like he was having fun. Armie continued circling the room, discouraging any advances from women, and shooting the breeze with a few people he knew. The time quickly passed. 

“Hey you.” Armie heard as he stood at the bar, chatting to one of the bartenders. He glanced to his side to see Timmy. Wet curls clung to his forehead and his palm tree covered camp shirt hung open exposing a smooth bare chest. Armie reached for a bottle of water on the bar and tossed it to him. They smiled at each other. 

“Thanks man.” Timmy opened the bottle, turned it to his head and nearly consumed it in one gulp. “I needed that.”

“Heading back out or do you want to check out some burlesque. First show goes on at ten.”

“Let’s do burlesque.”

They headed into the cabaret lounge. Soft lounge music floated through the space. In the center were a catwalk and a round stage, surrounded by small cocktail tables with plush red velvet chairs. Around that were private booths. Red light glowed through the room. Armie steered Timmy to a side booth. “I’ll get drinks. What are you feeling?” Armie asked. 

“Rum and Coke,” Timmy suggested. He lounged back comfortably on the soft voluptuous velvet seat and relaxed. 

Armie grabbed two rum and Cokes, a couple of waters, and nuts. Timmy took the rum and Cokes from his hands as Armie returned to the booth. Armie placed the nuts on the table and removed the waters from his pocket and settled in, shoulder to shoulder with Timmy. Timmy handed a glass back to Armie. 

“Here’s to having the courage to reach out and touch.”

“No touching for me. I’m still on warning. But you go ahead and touch all you want.” 

They bashed their glasses together, the cold drink splashing over the rim. When the house light darkened, they shushed and gave the catwalk their attention. 

The first part of the show was like foreplay. The troupe, dressed in lacy corsets and garters, stuck to a more classic style of burlesque. They twirled and teased, knowingly leaving their audience wanting more. 

When there was a pause, Armie ran and got his friend at the bar to refill their rum and Cokes. He slid back into the booth next to Timmy just in time for the next act.

Two performers wearing top hats and shiny leather dresses with matching boots strutted out onto the stage, swinging leather riding crops. Unlike the performers before them, they were not there to tease. Joi Cardwell’s song _Wet_ began playing. They were there to do just that—moisten the audience. The two women moved together seductively, removing their dresses provocatively and slapping each other with the crops. By the end of the first part of their act, both were nude—pubes completely bare on one, trimmed on the other. 

Soft white lights turned up slightly and the women descended into the audience and worked the room, dancing suggestively, whipping the crops between their legs, and stopping to engage both men and women along the way in their game of desire. Those giving a nod of the head got to feel the sweet sting of the crop’s leather tip. 

During the next pause, Armie saw to it that their glasses were refilled. When Armie returned, Timmy leaned into his ear and probed. “Bare or trimmed?” Armie felt Timmy’s lips brush his lobe and the warmth of his breath made Armie’s side and stomach tickle. 

“Definitely bare. You?”

“Trimmed,” Timmy said. 

The room darkened again. 

A blue spotlight descended showing a slim man seated around a small table and chair in the middle of the stage. Donny Hathaway’s bluesy _I Love You More Than You'll Ever Know_ began. A heavier muscular man in a business suit strutted down the catwalk, as if returning home from a hard day at work. The two danced in circles in a game of cat and mouse. Not before long, strobe lights flashed and the game seemed to come to an end. Both men are nude with the heavier man, biceps bulging, pinning the slimmer one down on the table. The lights flashed again. When they stopped this time, there was now a power exchange. The slimmer man was on top, controlling the dance, until they both collapsed, and the blue spotlight closed in on them.

The lounge blackened and remained that way for several minutes, like some after play, giving the audience time to absorb and digest what they had seen. The sounds of smacking lips and soft moans could be heard in the darkness. Armie and Timmy lounged in their booth, one’s right side tightly pressed against the other’s left, fingertips grazing, knees touching until the house light lit up completely. 

Timmy jumped up announcing that he had to go to the restroom. He stumbled clumsily out of the booth and exited the lounge. 

Armie waited in the hallway. When he saw Timmy, he handed him water and asked, “Need some air?” Timmy nodded and Armie steered them into the night.

They strolled leisurely along the beach. The sea seemed calm and the stars shined bright and clear. People were all about, some completely nude, others bare chested in small bikini bottoms, and a few had their clothes on (still). At the heart of the outdoor festivities was a large bonfire. A band played on a bamboo makeshift stage and people swayed to the world beats in the air. Bartenders carried vats of tropical punch on their heads. Those needing to wet their throats or wanting a little liquid courage simply had to request a ladle of the strong sweet nectar. Cabanas lined the beach and people could be heard inside of them from behind drawn canopies.

A burlesque dancer from the show stood handing out pasties. “Wanna twirl?” she teased Armie and Timmy as they walked by. Timmy looked at Armie, swung his head back to the dancer and nodded. She walked up to him, pushed his camp shirt off his shoulders, bunched it up and tossed it at Armie, who easily caught it, looked at it oddly, and tucked a portion of the fabric in his back pocket with the rest dangling down his leg. Armie watched, as the dancer adhere a red tasseled pastie over each of Timmy’s pink nipples. Armie’s mouth watered. She turned to Armie and teased, “What about you, Big Guy?” Armie laughed and told her there was no way she was taping any adhesive to his hairy chest. She turned back to Timmy, pulled a riding crop from the holster at her side, and held it up. Timmy’s eyes ran over the long shaft of the crop, and he nodded. The crop descended against his chest with a delicious _thwack_ and Timmy moaned. Armie’s groin twitched, and he turned away from the scene and Timmy with his pinked chest and red tassels. _What was happening to him?_ The dancer pushed Timmy toward a group of men and women standing before another dancer giving a provocative twirling demonstration. Shortly thereafter, laughter roared—breasts bouncing, tassels twirling—clockwise, counterclockwise, everywhere.

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Midnight passed—hours ago. Timmy had disappeared with the cute blond they met earlier in the evening on the ballroom dance floor. Before he ran off, Armie grabbed his elbow and asked if he had protection. Timmy shook his head, and Armie slipped a condom in his pocket. He hoped that Timmy did not drink too much more rum. He had been intentionally telling the bartenders to go easy on the rum pours all night, knowing that he still had to get Timmy back to Amantes safely on the back of his moped. If it came to it, he supposed he could put him in a taxi, but that would get logistically messy and Armie wanted to make sure he got Timmy back to his room okay as he had promised his friend when they took off earlier. 

Armie laid back on the soft sand enjoying the sea breeze. Timmy’s abandoned shirt rested on his stomach. He gazed up at the stars, losing himself in its endlessness.

“Thank you Armie. I like this,” Timmy said, standing over Armie, staring down into his face.

“What, holidays?” Armie asked.

“Everything. It was fun tonight.”

“Ready to go? I promised your friend—“

“No!”

“Okay, we’ll do a round of Rum Roulette and then we should head out.”

The game of Rum Roulette was quite simple. It required absolutely no skill, designed specifically for the drunken, at a resort on an island at the wee-hour. One just had to have the ability to stand and spin. Those who were lucky enough to have a rum shot land in front of them when the wheel stopped sent cheers of love to the spinner. Some went over and beyond and gave hugs and kisses. The empty shot glasses were removed by the bartender between spins and replenished with new ones and the next person went on to spin the wheel. 

Armie and Timmy walked over to the large wheel surrounded by people. Armie nudged Timmy so that he could squeeze into the circle and secure a spot along the wheel. Armie stood behind him. They played a few rounds alternating the shots between them when they got lucky. Eventually, Armie pulled Timmy away and insisted they call it a night. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Armie placed Timmy’s shirt back over his shoulders and buttoned it up all the way. He carefully placed his helmet over Timmy’s sweaty, salty mop of curls. Armie swung his long legs over the moped and told Timmy to get on.

“Timmy, please hold on tight. Tell me that you are going to hold on,” Armie pleaded. He did not want to have to have to resort to tying Timmy’s arms around him.

Timmy mounted the moped clumsily and wrapped his arms around Armie’s waist. “I’m holding tight. See.”

Armie moved on to the shore road and rode cautiously along the far side of the road. Not long into the ride, Timmy warned, “Armie, I think I’m going to throw up.”

Armie pulled over. Timmy got off and ran into the grass and puked. 

“You okay?” Armie asked, concerned, standing at Timmy’s side, patting his back and then rubbing it gently.

“Me okay.” Timmy said. He straightened up, looked at Armie, “You know, I didn’t do _it_ with that girl. Just a hand job. I was never going to do _it_. I don’t know why, but I wanted you to know that.”

“Did you have a good time? That’s all that matters.” Armie opened a bottle of water and handed it to Timmy. 

“Yeah, I did.” Timmy smiled and drank the water voraciously.

“Better now?”

“Yeah, better now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **By the Seaside Playlist**  
>  Nellie McKay ~ _Caribbean Time_ ~ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-RBcNLYZHb8  
> Joi Cardwell ~ _Wet_ ~ https://youtu.be/I6t3T5kP37w  
> Donny Hathaway ~ _I Love You More Than You'll Ever Know ___~ https://youtu.be/IIegNRlNAi8


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Thursday, Timmy recovers from Wild Wednesday and tries the local _barbacoa_ , and on Friday, Armie begins to see the charm of Amantes and just wants to see Timmy before the day is through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Good Riddance 2020 Day! I’ve finally firmed up the roadmap for this fic and updated the summary and tags. Also, I’m so sorry for any distracting typos and errors. I cringe when I stumble on them, looking back. And thank you so much for reading. I wish everyone a very hopeful and promising 2021!!

Armie’s hangover lingered as he opened up The Rum Hut for service, but he carried on and managed—thanks to youth as well as a local headache ‘bush tea’ blended from medicinal plants from the south hills. He got to work and made sure that everything was ready for the day. He checked the supply of liquor and glasses and was prepping the mixes and garnishes when his phone vibrated. He pulled it out and checked his messages. 

_Daya: Sweetness, your nice artist and his friend checked out_

_Daya: Were they the ones that kept you out so late last night?_

_Armie: Wild Wednesday, what can I say_

_Daya: What a trashy event! Tourist gone wild 🤮_

Armie shook his head. He was not going to take Daya’s comment on. He pushed the phone back into his pocket and massaged his temples.

“Feeling it too,” a voice said. Armie looked up and saw Timmy’s friend. “We haven’t met properly. Saoirse,” she said, waving her hand at him.

“Armie. Nice to properly meet you.” 

“Well, you’re doing better than he is. He’s still out, so guess I have to get my own water.”

Armie pulled out a Pellegrino from the refrigerator and handed it to Saoirse.

“Thanks. Well, he must have had a good time. Haven’t seen him so excited in a while. He couldn't stop talking about you, until he passed out, that is.” 

Armie did not say anything. 

She continued, “So, he told me he changed his flight, that you two are going up a hill to see a waterfall.”

“Yes.” Armie turned and pointed south to the mountains in the horizon.

“Those are not hills. Those are mountains!”

Armie shrugged. “A hill, a mountain. Either way, we’re gonna climb it.”

“Is it safe? How do I make sure he’s all right?” Saoirse asked with concern. 

“The island is pretty safe. I’ll give you my number. We probably won't have much of a signal, but there is a base station there, where you or someone at the resort can get through at any time. Just ask for Polar Bear, everyone knows him, and he knows everything that happens in the south hills.”

“Polar Bear, that’s his name?” Saoirse asked as if Armie was joking with her. “Who is he, like the park ranger?”

Armie nodded. “I like that. Yeah, he’s like the park ranger. I’ll have to tell him that.”

“A hill that’s a mountain. A man who’s called a bear.” Saoirse shook her head. “Just give me the numbers. And I want confirmation the minute you two are back from that waterfall.”

Armie wrote his number and the number for the base station on a piece of paper, handed it to Saoirse, and said, “Will do.”

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Timmy rushed to The Rum Hut, right as Armie was preparing to leave for the day, and the next bartender was about to start his shift. 

“Armie. Good, you’re still here.”

“Timmy. Feeling better? Your friend dropped by this morning.” 

“Yeah, a little too much rum,” he said, rubbing his head. “But it was worth it. I had a good time. I just wanted to thank you man, for taking me there, putting up with me last night.”

“No problem, as long as you had a good time.”

“Saoirse caught up on her rest. Now, she wants me to hang with her tonight, see tonight’s entertainment—La Cirque Caribeque or something. I wish I could see a little bit of the island like you suggested.” 

“Circus,” Armie snorted. He looked at the time on his phone. “You have a couple of hours before it starts. Do you want to grab a quick bite with me at one of the local eats?”

“Yeah man. I would love that,” Timmy said excitedly. 

“Do you need to grab anything?”

“No, I’m ready to go when you are. I’ll just message Saoirse and let her know I’ll be back soon.” Timmy pulled out his phone and typed the message. 

Armie took Timmy to a local barbecue haunt, _Barbacoa_. They stood outside the aqua blue shanty on the beach, examining the crude menu board. The smell of grilled meat and fish permeated the air around the hut. Armie and Timmy's bellies growled in unison, and they laughed.

“I like this place. All these guys from around the Caribbean and Central America pass through the kitchen here, so you have all sorts of flavors going on," Armie said. He pointed to a pit next to the shanty and the line of smoking black drums with delicious meat and seafood grilling away. "Their specialty though is barbecue. What do you want to try?” 

“Guess I should try the BBQ. What do you think about the spicy chicken?”

“Can you handle spicy?” Armie raised a brow and warned.

“If it’s really hot, probably not,” Timmy said hesitantly. 

“Then I would get the regular if I were you.”

When it was time to pay the bill, Timmy reached for his wallet. Armie gently pushed his hand away, saying it was his treat, and asked Timmy to grab a table for them. 

When the meal was ready, Armie looked around for Timmy and spotted him in one of the brightly colored boat shaped cabanas. He balanced the metal tray of food, went to the table, and placed it down. He sat next to Timmy on the wooden bench, so that they could both look out at the water. 

“Wow, look at this food. Yummy.” Timmy’s eyes lit up. 

Armie itemized the items as he took the food off the tray. “To drink, hibiscus ginger lemon drink. Here’s your chicken. Rainbow parrot fish for me. Last but not least, breadfruit fries.” 

“Well, enjoy your meal and let’s dig in,” Timmy said enthusiastically. 

Armie waited as Timmy reached for the chicken. Timmy cut into the grilled meat, took a large bite and immediately started to cough, his eyes watering from the heat. Armie handed him the hibiscus drink and slid the neutral tasting breadfruit in front of him. Timmy took a few sips and his cough calmed. “Wow, this is the regular. What the hell does the spicy taste like?” He took another sip. “Okay, I think I’m good.” He dug into the chicken again. This time, he took a smaller bite and fared better. 

“It's those Caribbean peppers. Warned you! Do you want to try my fish before I dig in?”

“Nah, don’t like bones. Unless it is a fillet, it’s not for me.”

“You don’t like bones. What are you, five years old?” Armie playfully bumped Timmy’s shoulder. 

“What can I say, I don’t do bones.” Timmy smiled and shrugged. “This is beautiful.” He looked at the water and the glowing sun beginning its descent. “Good food...and company.” Timmy turned and smiled at Armie. 

“Yeah...” Armie looked out at the water. “You know, I’ve learned more about the island, the people and its culture in the past two years than I did in the prior five years I lived here. When we first moved here, I don’t know how my guardian Daya did it, but she got me into the American international school. Once I made friends there, I pretty much spent most of my time on that end and it’s really different from the rest of the island.”

“What do you mean?” 

Armie pulled out his phone, pulled up a map of the small island, and showed it to Timmy. “This is the island. We have the west side and that is where the wealthy people, including expats and business magnates, live. It’s a different world over there, just affluence everywhere. Then we have the north side. That’s where you’re staying, where the tourism trade pretty much dominates. Then we have the east side and that’s where everyone else is. It’s like a cornucopia of races and cultures—descendants of indigenous people, Europeans and enslaved Africans. Each year, more and more Americans and Canadians move here. The south side is pretty much untouched, almost like a protected national park. Thank goodness some former governor had the wherewithal to do that.”

“So Armie, how did you end up living here? You’re American, correct?”

“Yeah, I’m from Texas and New York, not the city though but upstate. After my mom passed away, Daya became my guardian, and we decided to move here. Daya’s mom was from here.” Armie looked pensive for a moment. “In a way, these gap years have been good even though I miss my best friend who moved away. But it got me to get to know the island better.” 

Armie polished off his fish and what was left of the fries. He looked at the time on his phone. “We should probably get you back to your friend.” 

Timmy reached for the phone, grazing Armie’s fingers. He turned it so that he could see the time. “We still have a few minutes,” Timmy said. “Do you think that we can take a quick walk on the beach? It’s so beautiful and the sun is setting.” 

“Sure, we can, for a few minutes.” 

They finished up their meal. Armie stowed the tray and walked over to the fine vanilla sand. Armie kicked off his boat shoes to the side and Timmy followed, kicking off his flip flops. They strolled leisurely on the beach. 

“So Timmy, I’m guessing you don’t have a girlfriend in New York. I mean, it’s okay if you do, but I figured you don’t. Even though a lot of people do come down here and have flings. You just don’t seem like the fling type.”

“No, I don’t have one,” he said and as if to justify why, he continued, “Anyway, I need to focus on my acting. What about you? Is that something you want?”

“When I was in school, I had a girlfriend, Elizabeth. She wanted to get serious. But I wasn't ready for that. So after graduation we broke it off.” 

“Why weren’t you ready?”

“Man, I was only eighteen. Besides, her family is rich. Mine isn’t and I didn’t know what was next for me. Then I started working in the resorts, and that was like being in a candy store. We wouldn’t have lasted anyway. There would have been too many distractions.”

“Well there wouldn't have been any distractions if you were into her. Right?” Timmy elbowed Armie. “How many have there been anyway?”

“Enough,” Armie said with a sheepish grin. 

“Shit Armie.” 

“But I think enough is enough. I’ve really got to think about what’s next for me.” 

Together, they both looked at the shoreline and sun one last time. 

“Well, I guess I need to get to the circus.”

With the sun setting over the water, they quietly rode back to the resort, Timmy holding Armie a little tighter than he needed to. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Armie did not see Timmy at The Rum Hut on Friday. Saoirse insisted that she and he spend the day together since Timmy would be leaving the resort first thing in the morning. Early in the day, they left the resort and headed out on a catamaran for a beach getaway and day of snorkeling. 

Armie went through the motions of his day, whipping up order after order of daiquiris, piña coladas and mojitos and chit chatted with the guests who stopped by the hut. At the end of his work day, the hospitality manager asked him to cover the bar in the dining pavilion for a couple of hours for one of the bartenders running late. Normally, he would say no and perhaps head to the west side and catch up with a friend or two, but that day he did not. If he was being honest with himself, he hoped to see Timmy.

As Armie strolled along the perfectly manicured grounds of the resort, he began to appreciate Amantes’ charm and idyllic appeal, how it could be a romance playground for couples. He noticed the gazebos, hammocks, and cozy nooks and crannies where lovers could canoodle for as long as they wanted. He inhaled the fragrance of the plumeria and he felt the clean sea breeze against his skin. 

It was still early in the evening, and the pavilion was quiet. For dinner, most guests chose to dine in one of the many romantic restaurants on the property. In the evenings, the pavilion was more for casual diners or those who were out and about all day and failed to make dinner plans. After a couple of hours, the bartender showed up for his shift, complaining how a trip of escaped goats had caused a ruckus and backed up the traffic on one of the main roadways on the east end of the island. Armie told him that he did not miss anything and said goodbye. 

As he was exiting the resort, Armie ran into one of the local bands rushing to the beach to set up for the evening. “Big Guy, join us for a tune,” Sound Boy, the bandleader, called out. Armie responded that he would. He still had not seen Timmy and was holding out hope that he would. With Armie’s help, the band quickly set up, as a few members complained about being late due to old man Keke’s goats all over Pond Road. Armie grabbed the guitar’s player’s ukulele and checked that it was tuned. 

When the band was ready, Sound Boy turned around and warned sternly, “Band, keep it clean. Remember, this is a classy joint.” He told Armie to strum them off on the ukulele, and the band broke into their worldsy version of The Cure’s _Friday I'm in Love_ to kick the evening off. A group of guests immediately jumped up, threw their hands up in the air, and began to dance to the tune. By the time Armie joined in on the hook of the song, Timmy and Saoirse had emerged out of nowhere and were singing and twirling about with the other dancing resort guests.

When the song was over, Timmy looked up at Armie and smiled widely. In that moment, after waiting all day to see Timmy, all Armie could do was smile back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **By the Seaside Playlist**  
>  Nellie McKay ~ _Caribbean Time_ ~ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-RBcNLYZHb8  
> Joi Cardwell ~ _Wet_ ~ https://youtu.be/I6t3T5kP37w  
> Donny Hathaway ~ _I Love You More Than You'll Ever Know ___~ https://youtu.be/IIegNRlNAi8  
>  The Cure ~ _Friday I'm in Love_ ~ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HD9Q1lctyo8


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie and Timmy hike up to Armie’s spot, a waterfall, in the south hills.

Early Saturday morning, Armie picked up a half-sleeping Timmy and his luggage from Amantes. When they got to the bungalow, Timmy pleaded, “Need more sleep.” Armie placed his hands on Timmy’s slim shoulder and directed him to his bedroom and told him to crash there. Timmy kicked off his trainers, climbed into the unmade bed and snuggled up on Armie’s side, pulling the sheet cover over him. He quickly fell into a second sleep.

A couple of hours later, an energized Timmy strolled into the open kitchen where Armie was placing sandwiches into a bag. While Timmy slept, Armie had dropped off Daya’s car at her workplace, retrieved his moped, which she used to get there, exchanged his moped for his friend’s off road bike and prepped food for their overnight hike.

“These photographs, hanging on the wall throughout the house, they’re amazing. And, is that the waterfall we’re going to see?” Timmy said in awe as he sat down at the kitchen table.

“Don’t look at those. You don’t want your first impression to be someone else’s. Where is the fun in that, if you have a choice?”

“Seriously, is it?”

“Yes, it’s the waterfall. Told you it was beautiful.”

“Who took the photographs? They should be in a gallery.” Timmy stood up again and walked around the bungalow looking at the photographs. One set of photos was of the colorful locals and the other was of sunrises, sunsets, mountains, cliffs, and the falls. If the photographs were of any indication, the island was truly beautiful as Armie had said.

“Daya and I did. She loves photography. She used to take me out and about when I was younger. One day, she brought me my own camera. Before I knew it, I was also into it. With an off road bike, I can get around quite a bit, so most of those out of the way shots over there are mine,” Armie said pointing to the hallway.

Timmy walked over and looked at the photographs again. He found a light switch and turned it on and walked up and down the hall. Armie looked in Timmy’s direction nervously. He was not accustomed to people scrutinizing his photographs. He realized he wanted Timmy to like them.

Timmy returned to the kitchen and said emphatically, “Armie, how can you say that you don’t know what to do with your life! You are clearly talented, and I bet you haven’t even had any kind of formal training yet. Imagine if you did, it could be a kind of aperture for you.”

“It’s just a hobby. I never thought about doing it for a living.”

“Well, you should think about it. I hate it when people dismiss the arts, like it should not be made a priority, a real, viable and fulfilling way to live your life. Yes, it’s hard, but I can’t imagine doing anything else,” Timmy said heatedly. This was obviously a sore spot for him, one that he had apparently argued over and over in the past.

“Well, you’ve given me something to think about,” Armie said seriously. “But now, let’s eat and get ready to hit the road. We can share a sack. At a minimum, you should bring a toothbrush, swimming trunks and anything you think you need to change into. I have stuff like toothpaste, sunblock, and repellant, so don’t worry about that. Wait, shoes. You don’t have any hiking shoes, do you?”

“I have these trainers.” Timmy pointed to his feet, at his brand new sparkling white trainers. Armie looked at them skeptically.

“Sit,” Armie ordered. Timmy immediately sat down at the kitchen table. Armie stooped and lifted one of Timmy’s feet looking at the soles. “Well, it’s good that they’re trainers, they’re chunky, and don’t appear to be too heavy.” Armie placed Timmy’s foot back down on the floor and stood up.” They should work, but you know, they’re going to get soiled. They look new. Are you gonna be okay with that?”

Timmy stood up and looked down at his trainers. “I know a place in New York that can clean them up good if I need to. So, yes...Dad,” Timmy said, rolling his eyes. “I’m okay with it. Besides, it’s all I have.”

“Dad!” Armie said outraged, his arms akimbo. “How am I a Dad!”

“All bossy, resourceful, and level headed but caring.” Timmy playfully punched Armie on his arm and grinned. “That’s okay. You can be my Daddy, Armie.”

“That’s it!” Armie grabbed Timmy and quickly confirmed that he was ticklish. He moved in to get him good. They wrestled until Timmy somehow managed to break away from Armie’s grip. They laughed uproariously. “Okay, since I’m the _grown up_ here, let’s get back on track. Pack up.” Armie pointed to the sack. “Ham, cheese, eggs, and our local bread okay with you for breakfast?”

“Yes, sounds good Dad.” 

Timmy ran to the bedroom and got what he needed from his luggage and returned to the kitchen and placed the items into the sack. Armie plated out breakfast for them and they ate heartily. When they were done, Armie quickly cleaned up and they were ready to hit the road. 

Outside, Timmy checked out the off road bike that Armie borrowed, running his hand over it in admiration. “This is so cool. What happened to the moped?” Timmy asked.

“Borrowed this from a friend and left him the moped so that he can get around. It’s really gravelly heading up by the base station, so we’re going to need this.” Armie secured the sack and threw a helmet at Timmy. Armie put his own on and mounted, kick started and then ran the bike. “Come on Cherub. We gotta get going!” Timmy mounted the bike and they were off to the hills. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

When they reached one of the main gateways to the hills, Armie pulled over on the roadway. “Okay Cherub, we’re about to go off road. Hold on.” Timmy responded that he would, but a few minutes later, he called out to Armie. Armie slowed down, stopped and asked what was the matter. Timmy said he needed to adjust himself. He snuggled closer, now fully flushed again Armie’s back, and wrapped his arms tightly around Armie’s torso. Better prepared to deal with the off road, they continued on to the base station. 

Once they got to the station, Armie pulled into a sheltered makeshift car park slowly and shut off the bike. They dismounted, got the sack and walked over to a small office. 

“Polar Bear!” Armie yelled out. An older man, thin and tall, with long silver white locked hair hanging all the way down to his thighs walked out of the office. He had a matching beard that hung to his belly. 

“Big Guy, how are you, man?” Polar Bear high fived Armie. 

“This is Timmy from New York. He’s here to see the falls.”

“Oh, you’re the New Yorker,” Polar Bear said and shook Timmy’s hand. He turned to Armie and continued, “A girl named Searchie called asking for a damn park ranger. I was like, who do you want to talk to. Anyway, she wanted to know if her friend Timotay from New York arrived safely and told me to keep an eye on him for her.” Polar Bear and Armie laughed.

“That’s Timmy friend, just looking out for him,” Armie clarified. 

“That’s my friend _sur-sha_ ,” Timmy chimed in. 

“Timmy, maybe you should go with Polar Bear, call her and let her know that you’re okay. I’ll go and get supplies for the hike.” Timmy followed Polar Bear and Armie went to his rental locker and pulled out a tent and bedrolls. They reconvened outside the small office. 

“Everything okay?”

“She's fine. Her girlfriend just landed so she’ll be just fine. I’m ready, Big Guy!”

“Let’s go.”

“Hey Big Guy, Ms. Ruby is foraging this weekend. Don’t let her sneak up on y’all,” Polar Bear yelled.

“Okay, thanks Polar Bear. See you tomorrow.” Armie hollered back.

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Armie and Timmy started their ascent up into the lush south hills. Armie pointed out the birds he knew to be endemic to the island, and the local herbs and plants he was familiar with and the ailments they were known to treat. They took a detour to look at petroglyphs and another detour to a vista that looked out over the vast ocean. They snacked on nuts and dried local fruit from the sack and kept hydrated with cool refreshing water from the hills. 

When the vigorous climb eased up, Timmy told Armie about his family, how he was half-French, about growing up in New York and visiting France in the summertime as a young boy. He told Armie what it was like to be a young actor and shared highlights and low points so far from his short career. Timmy shared freely and openly with Armie. Armie liked that about him. How giving he was of himself. The hours zipped by, and before they knew it, they were approaching the base of the waterfall. By then, Armie knew quite a bit about Timmy’s background and liked him even more. 

When they walked up on the gushing waterfall, they tilted their head in amazement. It was truly wondrous, breathtaking. Armie had seen it many times, and even he was still moved by it each time he set his eyes upon it. He looked at Timmy, watched his expression, the way his eyes widened, the way his mouth hung open. So expressive. So _beautiful_. Armie moved closer and bounced his shoulder against Timmy. “So, what do you think?”

“Oh Armie, it’s spectacular. Thank you for bringing me here. To think that I would not have seen this if you and Redd didn’t make all this happen. I’m truly grateful.” 

“So, do you want to take a dip?” Armie asked. 

“Hell yeah!”

Armie steered them over to a towering blue mahoe. They dropped their supplies at the tree’s knotty root. Armie opened the sack, pulled out their trunks, and tossed Timmy his pair. They pulled off their clothes behind the tree, stealing glances at each other but quickly looking away when their eyes met. When they were done, they ran and jumped into the cool water. They swam and splashed about, enjoying themselves and each other.

“So Timmy, do you dive? There are two spots, where you can safely dive from.” Armie pointed to the spots along the cliffs surrounding the waterfall. “Want to give it a try?”

“I don’t know about the higher point. That looks scary. But I’ll try the first one.” 

They got out and climbed carefully up the cliffs. Armie would step first along the rocks and then reach his hand back for Timmy to grab. When they reached the first point, they agreed Armie would dive first and Timmy would follow. 

“Here goes!” Armie said and dived into the pool of water, entering it cleanly. He swam to the surface and called up to Timmy. 

Timmy just leapt in, making a big splash. Armie chuckled as water flew everywhere. _Oh Timmy_. They dived a few more times before Armie teased Timmy asking if he was ready for the big boy dive. 

“Come on,” he urged. 

They climbed the cliffs carefully. At one point, Timmy slipped and Armie grabbed him, pulling him closely. After that, he held his hand and they climbed together. When they reached the diving point, Timmy said, “Holy shit! I don’t know if I can do this. How high is this?”

“You can do it.” Armie said encouragingly. “I can go first and I’ll be there, waiting, if anything happens. Okay?” Timmy nodded. “Sure?” Armie asked. Timmy nodded again. 

Armie dove and entered the water elegantly. 

“Is there anything you’re not good at?” Timmy yelled sarcastically from the cliff.

“You can do it, Cherub!” Armie yelled back. “Come on, you can do it!”

Timmy stood there for a few minutes trying to pump himself up. 

“Come on Timmy.” Armie started to chant Timmy’s name, “Timmy, Timmy, Timmy, Timmy—”

“Okay, okay, the whole island is going to hear you. Here goes.” 

Timmy jumped, screaming Arrrrrrrrrmeeeeeeee, as he moved through the air and into the water with a huge splash. 

Armie cheered and swam over to him. Timmy leapt on him, wrapping his hands around his necks. Armie pecked the top of his head and exclaimed, “I’m so proud of you.”

“Can we do one more round?” Timmy asked excitedly, his adrenaline flowing. 

“We still have a little more hiking to do. We’ll have time for more diving tomorrow if you like.”

They threw on their clothes and continued on with their hike, eating protein bars along the way. It was not long before they got to the spot that Armie wanted them to camp for the night. Armie set up the tent efficiently. Timmy hung their trunks up and pulled out their meal for the night—cured beef sandwiches, fruit, cookies and coconut water. When they settled down, they had a breathtaking view of the waterfall before them and the sunset on the horizon. Armie took out the small pocket camera he carried when he did not have his larger one. He snapped photos of Timmy and the peaceful serenity around them. When the sun went down, the cascading waterfall glowed in the prevailing moonlight. 

“So Timmy, can you recite something for me from _Death of a Salesman_ or one of your favorite plays. I would really love to see you at work.”

Timmy gave Armie some background on the two-act play and its characters. Then Timmy stunningly recited the famous monologue by the older son, Biff. 

“Timmy, that was great. That scene is really a reality check for the characters. I have to read the play and make sure I see it on the stage one day,” Armie said. “I wish I could see you in it.” 

Timmy smiled. “Definitely read it, see it. One of the best plays ever,” Timmy encouraged warmly.

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

It had been a long adventurous day, and Armie and Timmy were spent. They crawled into the tent. Armie offered to hook in a privacy divider, but Timmy said he did not need it. 

Timmy yawned widely. “Good night Armie, don’t let the bed bugs bite.” 

Armie asked if he could keep the rechargeable lantern on a little longer to read, if it would bother Timmy. Timmy said it would not. He was going to sleep like a baby. 

All of a sudden, as if his safety was only just occurring to him, Timmy perked up and asked, “There aren't any wild animals out here. Are we going to be okay?”

“Now, you’re asking,” Armie kidded. “We’re fine. Go to sleep.”

“Okay, I trust you.”

“Why?”

“I just do, from the first time I sat down and spoke to you at the bar.”

After a day of arduous hiking, swimming and diving, Timmy fell asleep quickly, and after reading a chapter in his paperback, Armie yawned and turned off the lantern. He listened to Timmy’s steady breathing next to him and the steady buzz of the waterfall in the background. Shortly, he fell into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **By the Seaside Playlist**  
>  Nellie McKay ~ _Caribbean Time_ ~ https://youtu.be/-RBcNLYZHb8  
> Joi Cardwell ~ _Wet_ ~ https://youtu.be/I6t3T5kP37w  
> Donny Hathaway ~ _I Love You More Than You'll Ever Know ___~ https://youtu.be/IIegNRlNAi8  
>  The Cure ~ _Friday I'm in Love_ ~ https://youtu.be/HD9Q1lctyo8  
> Sting & Shaggy ~ _Morning Is Coming_ ~ https://youtu.be/xA3WpKLilPI  
> 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before leaving the south hills, Armie and Timmy dive some more, and Timmy has a strange encounter with the old woman foraging there. In the evening, back at the bungalow, they enjoy a local stew and fish dinner and play a game dominoes. It is clear to everyone they encounter that something is happening between them, but are they ready to admit it, much less address it, before Timmy leaves for home.

Armie awakened, refreshed. He reached for his hiking watch in the storage pocket of the tent and could not believe his eyes. He never woke up this late, even when he had a hangover. He looked over and Timmy was not there. He got up and exited the tent. Timmy was perched on a rock with his arms wrapped around his knees looking out on the horizon. Armie walked over and said good morning.

“This is so beautiful Armie.”

“Yeah, it is,” Armie replied, but he was not looking at the horizon—the horizon had already been imprinted in his mind from his many trips to the south hills over the years and the volumes of photos he had taken. At that moment, he was drinking in Timmy’s profile.

For breakfast, they ate molasses ginger cake and fruit and drank a coffee drink. They took their time packing up in a comfortable silence, careful not to leave anything behind that would taint the natural beauty of the hills. When they were ready, they began their leisurely descent. 

Their first stop was to get some more diving in. This time, Timmy boldly headed to the higher cliff. The initial fear returned for his first dive of the day. Again, Armie assured him that he would be in the water, waiting. With that assurance, Timmy leapt. After a couple more dives, no more assurances were needed. 

By the time they moved on, Timmy bounced around contentedly, proud that he had conquered cliff diving in the hills. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓ 

_“Unuh!”_

Armie and Timmy whipped their heads around and looked up to see a thin old woman standing on a mount above them holding a staff with a large netted bag across her torso. 

Not understanding the woman, Timmy turned to Armie and asked, “What did she say?”

“She’s just calling to us.” Armie said to Timmy and waved to the old woman. “Hello Ms. Ruby, how are you today ma’am?”

“We stand on the earth, so it is a good day for us. Correct?” Ms. Ruby climbed down the mount easily and walked toward Armie and Timmy. She seemed ancient from afar, but up close her skin was smooth and glowing. “I have something for Daya.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a small burlap sack and handed it to Armie.

“Ms. Ruby, what’s this for, ma’am?”

“That be woman’s business, young man!”

“Yes, ma’am. Well, may I have some headache tea?” Armie handed her a few rolled up bills. Ms. Ruby rummaged through her bag and handed him a clear sealed bag of loose herbal tea.

“The body is a temple. Treat it well,” she warned.

Armie realized that he had forgotten his manners and introduced Timmy. “Ms. Ruby, this is Timmy. He’s from America. He came to the hills to see the waterfall.”

Ms. Ruby threw her staff to the ground and reached her hand out to Timmy. “Hello Ms. Ruby,” Timmy said politely and shook her hand. Ms. Ruby quickly closed her other hand over his. Her grip was firm for an old woman. She began to mumble words in a local dialect. Timmy gave Armie a confused look, but Armie gave him a slight reassuring nod indicating that it was okay. Suddenly, Ms. Ruby pulled her hand away and stepped backwards as if being pulled by some force. She crouched over and placed her hands over her ears and shook her head as if her eardrums ailed. Timmy became even more confused and looked nervously at Armie. 

Finally, Ms. Ruby removed her hands from her ears and pronounced slowly, “You will be exalted, and the applause will be _thunderous_. But remember, there can only be one most supreme.” She looked at Timmy curiously and gave him a small smile.

“My staff!” she demanded. Armie hurriedly picked it up and handed it to her.

She stood, examining the two before her. Armie and Timmy squirmed under her keen gaze, feeling exposed, even though they had not done anything that they felt they should be concerned about or ashamed of. “Love is love. Isn’t it?” Ms. Ruby said quietly. And with that, she turned, walked away, and returned to the bush.

“That was the strangest encounter I’ve ever had,” Timmy announced when he felt that Ms. Ruby was far enough away and out of earshot. “This island has definitely been an adventure. What was she even saying?”

“I think she was saying that you're going to be wildly famous, but don’t let it get to your head.”

“I wish! I couldn’t even get a role in a pilot before I came here.” Timmy snorted.

“Don’t worry. Once, she told me that I was going to be rich, that my father was rich, but was not very nice. My dad is not even with us anymore.” Armie shrugged. “Let’s go.”

As they hiked, Timmy asked carefully, “Armie, what happened to your dad?” Then he held up his hand and said, “You don’t have to talk about it, if it is too personal.” 

“No, it’s not too personal. I was so young. I don’t remember much. He died in an accident. He was in the military, the army. After that, my mom and I moved to New York. My guardian Daya is my dad’s half-sister. She came to live with us in New York.” 

“And what about your mom?” Timmy continued carefully. 

“A car accident, when I turned thirteen.” 

“Oh Armie, you lost both your parents to accidents. Man...” Not knowing what to say, Timmy gently rubbed and squeezed Armie’s forearm. 

They continued hiking. Suddenly, Armie stopped abruptly. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his billfold. From it, he pulled out a small photo and showed it to Timmy. 

“This is my mom. Her name was Victoria, and I think about her every day.”

Timmy took the wallet sized photo from Armie and examined the image of the smiling woman with long wavy blond hair and warm blue eyes. “You look just like her. You’re both beautiful.”

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

When they returned to the base station in the afternoon, Polar Bear high fived them and asked if they had a good time. Timmy gushed what a good time he had and how beautiful the hills and waterfall were. Polar Bear smiled like a proud parent. 

Armie whispered, “You made his day. He lives for these hills.”

Armie checked his phone now that he had a signal. He saw a message from Daya.

_Daya: Is your artist friend having dinner here today? I’m making pepperpot_

_Armie: Yes, we just descended the hills_

_Armie: Aah...pepperpot may be too exotic for Timmy_

_Armie: Can you make something safer on the side?_

Armie returned his gear to the storage locker, and Timmy checked in with Saoirse. After that, they hit the road and headed to the east coast. Armie dropped off the off road bike and retrieved his moped. As they rode along the roadway passing brightly colored bungalows and small cottages and shanties, someone honked repeatedly at them. A car pulled up next to them, slowed down, and Redd hollered greetings out the window at them. 

“Where are you heading?” Armie hollered back. 

“Home.”

“Come for dinner. Daya is making her famous pepperpot.” 

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

They headed north east back to Daya and Armie’s bungalow. It was early evening by the time they arrived. They burst into the bungalow, as Timmy once again gushed about the hills, this time to Redd.

“I don’t go up there. The hike is too much for me,” Redd admitted and patted his pudgy belly.

“I know. I’ll definitely be sore for a few days,” Timmy admitted, rubbing his lower back. “I slept like a baby last night and probably will again tonight.”

“What’s the commotion in here?” Daya said as she walked into the living room. 

“Daya!” Redd exclaimed. 

“Clinton,” Daya said, rubbing Redd’s head. He nuzzled into her hand like a beloved pet, enjoying the affection.

She turned to Timmy. Armie hurriedly introduced them. He knew she would need to warm up to Timmy. She did not like strangers, especially strangers from abroad, strangers from places like New York and California. 

“Hi Daya. Thank you so much for having me. Everyone here has been so good to me. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” He shook her hand and hugged her familiarly. 

Daya was momentarily taken aback by Timmy’s ready affection. At first she hesitated, her arms suspended in the air but after seeing Armie’s eager grin, she yielded and returned the hug. “Nice to meet you Timothée. So, you’re an artist.”

“Yes, an actor.” Timmy added, “I can see that you two are as well. The photos, they are amazing. They should be in a gallery.”

“Oh, it’s just a hobby, one that Armie has taken to a whole other level.” 

“Well, let’s eat,” Armie interrupted. “I told Redd that you made your famous pepperpot stew.” 

“Well then Sweetness, come and help me bring everything out.” 

In the kitchen, Armie hugged Daya. She asked about the hike as he surveyed what she had prepared. He opened the pot with the stew and inhaled with a hum of approval. He returned the lid and hefted the cast iron Dutch pot and carried it to the dining table. He returned to the kitchen and looked at the massive grilled red snapper stretched across a floral yellow platter, covered in pickled green and orange peppers and onions. 

“Should I debone the fish here?” Armie asked.

“Why are you going to debone it?”

“Timmy doesn't like bones.” 

“No one likes bones. But I’ve never heard you offer to debone fish for anyone else.”

She held his forearm. He looked at her and she searched his face for an answer. Armie looked away from her stare, grabbed the platter along with the loaf of bread and brought it out to the dining table. Daya came out after him, carrying a bowl of salad and a place setting for Redd. They all sat at the table. Armie looked around, jumped up, ran to the kitchen and returned with two large bottles of Caribe beer and glasses. He rested them at the corner of the table. Now they were ready for their meal. Daya ladled out the stew, Redd poured the beer, and Armie sliced the bread freshly baked earlier that day.

Daya closed her eyes and prayed silently for a few moments. When she was done, everyone’s eyes fell on Timmy, waiting for him to taste the rich stew. He dipped his fork into the stew, brought it to his mouth, chewed and swallowed. Finally, he said, “The depth of flavors reminds me of my grandmother’s beef bourguignon back in France. I like it!”

They all smiled, relieved, and began to eat. 

“So, get this. Timmy told me he met Ms. Ruby,” Redd said to Daya, as he hacked the head off the grilled snapper and dropped it on his plate. 

“You saw Ms. Ruby?” Daya asked. 

“Yeah, we ran into her. She was foraging this weekend. She gave me something for you,” Armie chimed in, as he dipped a chunk of bread into the savory stew. 

“No, it gets better,” Redd said excitedly. He paused for effect. “She _smiled_ at him.”

Daya looked at Timmy. “She _smiled_ at you?”

“Yeah, she said these words. Armie said it was a local dialect. Then she gave me a small smile,” Timmy confirmed and demonstrated Ms. Ruby’s smile. 

“That is actually spot on,” Armie said and chuckled. “Wow, that is a spot on imitation. You’re good.” Armie sliced a piece of the snapper and placed the fillet on Timmy’s plate.

Daya looked at Timmy. She seemed to have some newfound respect for him. She began, “Timmy, that is interesting. Ms. Ruby is a kind of spiritualist in the islands. That word confuses many people. Some think that it means that she can heal people. But she cannot heal people. It is the plants and minerals of the land—along with the knowledge carried down each generation—that helps with many ailments and with pain. Ms. Ruby’s gift is a kind of intuition but more importantly she seems to have the ability to help unleash some people’s potential. Don't get me wrong. She cannot give you a gift. It has to be there already. She just knows how to _agitate_ it.”

Daya paused and stared at Armie, who had now taken Timmy’s plate and was deboning the fish for him. Redd watched Daya observe Armie and chimed in, “So Timmy, do you play dominoes? I say when we’re done with our meal, we get a game in before I have to head out. Last time, Daya and Armie kicked me and Hummingbird’s butts. But I’m not salty about it.”

“No, I’ve never played but would love to learn,” Timmy said. 

They ended their meal with slices of sweet papaya and then moved out onto the frangipani perfumed patio where they huddled around a small square card table. Armie poured a molasses based rum for them as a digestive. It was decided that Armie and Daya could not be on the same team. They played too well together, according to Redd. And Armie did not want Timmy partnering with Daya. He was not sure she had fully warmed up to Timmy and just seemed so hung up on the deboning. He was just being helpful. What was he supposed to do, let Timmy choke on a bone the day before he was supposed to go home? So, it was agreed Daya and Redd would be partners and Armie would partner with Timmy. Redd went over the rules of the game with Timmy and explained that the first team to take six games was the victor. He demonstrated exaggeratedly how the locals slammed the winning domino on the table when they took a game.

Redd shuffled the dominoes and the game began. Daya and Redd took the first game. Redd slammed his domino and called the game. Daya and Redd went on to take the second game. Timmy mouthed sorry to Armie, and Armie shook his head and threw a hand up telling him not to worry about it. Armie and Timmy took the third game. Timmy tentatively slammed the domino on the table and Armie high fived him. Daya and Redd took the next game and Armie and Timmy took the next two games. 

Redd shuffled the dominoes and explained the situation to everyone at the table. “So the game is tied. This game decides the winning team.”

“Wait!” Armie said and poured more molasses rum for everyone. He held up his glass and everyone joined him and raised their glasses. “Here’s to kicking your butts.” Armie laughed. 

“Oh no he didn’t!” Redd exclaimed and shuffled the dominoes once more with a feigned ruthless laugh. 

Timmy had the double six domino and slammed it on the table. Each player slammed their domino harder than the player before. Armie and Redd talked smack to each other. Timmy paid extra attention trying intently to keep track in his head. The stakes were high. Daya smiled, enjoying the playfulness of the evening. Finally, Armie slammed the winning domino on the table and boldly stood up in a champion pose. Timmy leapt up and they smiled into each other’s eyes and enthusiastically hugged tightly across the card table. 

When Daya leaned back in her chair observing the _closeness_ between Armie and Timmy, Redd jumped up and playfully vowed that he would be back soon for another game. “I’m bringing Hummingbird, and we will take you down Big Guy!”

After that, they decided to call it a night. Timmy hugged Redd and thanked him for everything. Before he left, he told Timmy that he would not say goodbye, he would simply say _later_. 

Timmy helped Daya and Armie clean up. When Daya was ready to head off to bed, she wished Timmy safe travels. Timmy hugged her once again. She rubbed his head affectionately as she had done to Redd. She hugged and kissed Armie and said good night. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Armie went to retrieve the cot from the shed but could not find it anywhere. Then he remembered that it had been loaned out to one of the neighbors who had visitors from abroad. At that late hour, Armie asked Timmy if he just wanted to crash with Armie since it was only for one night. Timmy did not care. He simply said, “Dude, you saw me puke.” Besides, he had shared a tent with Armie the night before. 

They washed up and went to bed. Armie turned off the lights but laid there not able to fall asleep. He was buzzed from the time spent with Timmy and the fun they had that day. He wanted to read for a while since that usually helped him fall asleep but he knew that Timmy had to be up early for his flight. So he laid quietly. 

On the other side of the bed, Timmy tossed, flipped, tossed once again and sighed loudly.

“Timmy, what’s wrong?” Armie asked softly and turned on the bedside lamp, setting it to low. Timmy flipped on his side, facing Armie.

“Armie, I don’t know what’s happening,” he whispered. 

He locked eyes with Armie and seemed to be struggling, like he needed to say something, get it off his chest. Finally, he leaned over and kissed Armie tenderly on the lips and pulled back. “You’re not going to punch me or something, are you?” He asked nervously.

“No, why would I do that? I would never do that.” Armie whispered firmly. 

“You know, because...”

Armie leaned over and returned the kiss, tentative at first. Then, Armie pushed his tongue through Timmy’s lips. As they explored each other’s mouth, the kiss intensified and they became aroused. 

When they finally pulled away from each other, Timmy moaned, “I’m so hard.”

“Me too.”

Timmy reached into his boxers, wrapped his hand around himself and began twisting his hand up and down his erection. He closed his eyes and moaned again. Armie’s cock twitched and he moved his hand into his own boxers and did the same. The sound of rapid breathing and moaning drifted through the bedroom. 

Timmy came first, Armie’s name escaping roughly from his throat as his body spasmed. 

Hearing his name, Armie quickened the pace of his strokes until he felt his own tightening and orgasmed, saying Timmy’s name in a whispered grunt. In silence, they used the corner of the bedsheets to clean themselves up. 

Armie turned off the lamp and they moved into each other’s arms, sighed, and fell asleep. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

The next morning, Daya entered Armie’s bedroom to awaken the boys before she headed off to work. They were still in a deep sleep and were entangled in each other—Timmy’s hand around Armie’s neck, Armie’s hand around Timmy’s waist, one’s legs between the other, another’s leg over the other’s hip. Daya stared at them, both surprised and not surprised. The knowing part of her turned around, exited the room, and closed the door. She sighed and briefly prayed that Armie land on his feet ( _again_ ). She banged on the door loudly and called out, “Wake up boys! Sweetness, remember, you have to get Timothée to the airport.” 

Armie stirred and Timmy groaned. Once Armie awakened, it took him several moments to decipher what was happening. He rubbed Timmy’s back, coaxing him until he woke up and rolled over. Daya called out again, “I’m leaving. Breakfast is on the stove. And remember, drop my car off at work. I’ll ride that moped of yours there but I won’t use it to get home.”

Armie got out of bed, hopped through the bungalow and pulled open the front door. “Yeah, I’ll drop it off. Thanks for making breakfast!” he hollered at Daya as she waved and pulled out on the road on the moped. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Armie and Timmy sat quietly in the small airport terminal, waiting, a heaviness in the air.

“You have your passport and everything else?” Armie asked. He needed to say something practical. 

“Yes,” Timmy replied. 

“And how are your muscles? Still achy?”

“Yes, I think I’ll be feeling the hike and dive for days.” Timmy rubbed his shoulders. Armie wished he had rubbed some salve on them before they left the bungalow. “You know, you don’t have to wait. You’re gonna be late for work. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Don’t worry about that. I already told them I would be late.” Armie stared at Timmy, at how pronounced his freckles had become the few days he had been on the island. He wanted to kiss them, giving each special attention. For a brief moment, he imagined grabbing Timmy, jumping on his moped, pressing his slim frame against his back and drawing his long hands tight and snug around his waist. They would go to one of his favorite spots on the beach near the bungalow. There, they would fall on the soft sand and lounge under a palm tree. Armie would strum the ukulele, whatever Timmy wanted to hear, and Timmy would recite passages from his favorite works of drama. When they got thirsty, Armie would show Timmy how to pick a coconut from a tree and pierce its hard shell. Timmy would turn the fruit to his mouth and gulp the refreshing nectar. Some of its juice would stream slowly down Timmy's chin and neck, and Armie imagined lapping up the sweet fluid before it reached his collarbone—.

_What was he doing?_

Armie shook his head, pulled himself from the moment, and asked sensibly, “Are you busy when you get back?”

“It looks that way. My agent emailed this morning. I can't believe it but he has a several things lined up that’s encouraging.”

“You're gonna knock em dead, you know. You’re so talented.”

“How do you know that?”

“I heard you recite _Salesman_. Remember?” Armie reminded him. Timmy smiled.

A boarding announcement for Timmy’s flight blared through the airport intercom, jarring them out of their last few moments together bantering. They stood up and looked at each other. This was it. Neither wanted to let go of the moment, let go of this new _friendship_ formed by the serendipitous collision of an unlucky work transfer due to cavorting for one, and an unexpected cheer up trip, after losing another coveted role, for the other. Yet, somehow they, through moist eyes, managed to hug tightly and say goodbye to each other. 

“Bye Big Guy.”

“Bye Cherub.”

Timmy picked up his backpack, wrapped his large headphones around his neck and rolled his suitcase away. 

Armie pushed his fists into his pockets and strolled out of the terminal into sunshine. When Armie got outside, he heard a plane take off. He tilted his head and squinted up at it, in awe, watching the aircraft’s nose pierce into the bright blue sky until it disappeared. 

Then his head shifted down and he wondered why— _Nothing gold can stay_.

**~End of Part I~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **By the Seaside Playlist- Part I**  
>  Nellie McKay ~ _Caribbean Time_ ~ https://youtu.be/-RBcNLYZHb8  
> Joi Cardwell ~ _Wet_ ~ https://youtu.be/I6t3T5kP37w  
> Donny Hathaway ~ _I Love You More Than You'll Ever Know ___~ https://youtu.be/IIegNRlNAi8  
>  The Cure ~ _Friday I'm in Love_ ~ https://youtu.be/HD9Q1lctyo8  
> Sting & Shaggy ~ _Morning Is Coming_ ~ https://youtu.be/xA3WpKLilPI  
> 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II of the _**By the Seaside**_ picks up almost seven months after Armie emotionally says goodbye to Timmy at the airport on the island. Devon (Armie's dad's brother and Daya's half-brother) abstrusely requests that Armie travel to New York City to deal with his mother's estate now that he is turning twenty-one, the age of majority. Daya tells Armie to stay away from Timmy and focus on the matter at hand while in New York. Armie doesn't do this, and by the morning after his arrival in the city, he meets Timmy, jumps into a car with him, and then unknowingly ensnares Timmy into the drama surrounding his mother's estate and past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a _rough_ week all around. This fic is in part about perseverance. So, here goes... we leave the peaceful island off the sea for a hectic one off a river. 
> 
> Many thanks for reading and continuing on this journey with me. I'm learning so much from this process, and I appreciate each and every comment and kudo.

****

**Part II**  


Armie was summoned to New York City to deal with a legal matter related to his mother’s estate.

“What estate? There’s no estate,” Armie had argued into Daya’s phone. But Devon had been quiet on the other end of the line. He had not provided any details. He had only said that since Armie was turning twenty-one, there were a few things that needed to be done, and they would go through everything in New York. 

“Armie, please don't argue. Just go and see what he has to say.” Daya had said, sounding fatigued, not looking her usual vibrant self. 

“You don’t look too good. I don’t think that I should leave you.”

“Listen, please go and deal with this. If you do this, when you get back, you have my full support to go to California. No arguments.” Daya had held her hands up in surrender. 

In the end, Armie had acquiesced and begrudgingly packed his small suitcase for a trip to New York. 

“I’m sorry I won’t be with you for your birthday.” Daya said softly, as her eyes moistened on the way to the airport. She had not missed any of Armie’s birthdays in the past decade, and now he was turning twenty-one and she would not be there for him. She told Devon to do something special, perhaps take him for upscale Mexican. Armie liked Mexican, and a few of the top chefs from Mexico City had opened outlets of their restaurants in New York. She silently recalled when Armie had turned eighteen, how they had traveled to San Juan and had a good old time there, celebrating both his graduation and his birthday. 

She hoped this trip would be worth it. She tried to argue with her half-brother, now a famed lawyer in New York. Damn any estate. She had put aside savings for Armie’s college expenses. And while the bungalow was small and simple, it was in a great location on the north-east side of the island, practically on the beach. She would leave that for Armie, and he would always have a home by the seaside. 

“Armie, I think that you should go and hear Devon out before you do anything else.” She added carefully, “I know you may want to go and see Timothée, but I’m asking that you hold off until after you’ve dealt with Devon.” That was another thing that Daya was worried about. After Timmy left, she had to watch Armie brood and mope around for months. He was not like this when Nick moved away from the island. He was sad then, but after Timmy, it was like he lost a piece of himself that he did not know existed. She was not even sure Armie understood what he was going through. It was obvious that his feelings for Timmy were strong, way beyond friendship. Daya wondered how that had happened in such a short period of time. 

“I don’t even know if Timmy is in New York,” Armie said in an irritated voice. “He has a recurring role on a hit show that films in some other city. He’s probably busy anyway. This whole trip doesn’t even fully make sense to me.” Armie folded his arms across his chest petulantly. 

They pulled into the small international airport, and Daya dropped Armie off at the terminal. They got out of the car, and she tiptoed and hugged him tightly and kissed him warmly. He bent over, and she held his face firmly in her palms. “Sweetness, I love you. It’ll be a quick trip, over before you know it. We’ll celebrate your birthday as soon as you get home.”

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Armie laid on the bed in his room at the Roosevelt Hotel that night reading _Salesman_ , looking at Timmy’s notes in the margin. Timmy’s handwriting was etched in his mind. He would be able to tell it anywhere now. He smiled as he remembered finding the book amongst his belongings the week after Timmy had left. He had immediately messaged him, thinking he had accidentally left the book. But it had turned out that Timmy had secretly tucked his prized book in the top drawer of his dresser as a gift for Armie. 

The next morning, Armie went to a deli and purchased a bagel with cream cheese and coffee and brought it back to his room. As he ate his breakfast, he looked at the _Salesman_ sitting on the bedside table. Before he knew it, he was messaging Timmy and Timmy was responding. 

_Armie: I’ve started a new thing, read Salesman when I’m in a new place_

_Timmy: Heavy themes for early morning. Where’re you reading from Big Guy?_

_Armie: Themes are perfect for what I have planned today_

_Armie: A place you know well. Your hometown..._

_Timmy: You’re in NYC. No way! Whereabouts?_

_Armie: I’m by Madison. At the Roosevelt Hotel_

_Timmy: No shit!_

_Timmy: What’s going on? What do you have planned?_

_Armie: Going to visit my mother in Westchester County_

_Timmy: Shit Armie. Sorry. Do you want company? Want me to go with you?_

_Armie: I thought you were out of town shooting_

_Timmy: No, got home this weekend. I’m done with shooting for now_

_Timmy: So, do you want company? I don’t want to impose_

_Armie: Yeah, I would like it if you could come_

_Timmy: Meet me outside your hotel in an hour_

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Timmy double-parked the compact green Zipcar right behind a yellow cab on the crowded street near the hotel’s East 45th Street entrance. He flung the driver’s door open and with half his body dangling out the car called out to Armie, waving his gangly arm back and forth. Hearing his name amongst the cacophony of beeping horns and buzzing sidewalk filled with people pouring up and down the street and into and out of the hotel, Armie turned in Timmy’s direction and smiled. He squeezed between two parked cars and ran up to the Zipcar. He was about to head to the passenger side, when Timmy yelled, “Come here you.” Armie swung around, and the two, happy to see each other, hugged tightly. Timmy grazed Armie’s cheek with his soft lips, and Armie felt his face flush at the tender touch. “Let’s get out of here,” Timmy ordered. 

“So, what are you doing here, and for how long?” Timmy exclaimed once they pulled away from the hotel and headed down the busy street. 

“I’m here to see Devon, my dad’s brother. He’s a lawyer. Something to do with my mother’s estate, which doesn't make much sense to me, since my mother didn’t have an estate. I’m visiting his office tomorrow. Not sure when I’m leaving. Guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”

“Well, you get to visit your mom, and I get to see you. So, that’s good.” 

They made their way out of the busy city and headed up to Westchester County. Along the way, they chit-chatted about what Armie had been up to during the past few months and Timmy’s new role and the opportunities that had opened up for him during that time. Unlike the time he visited the island, he now had roles to pick and choose from. It looked like his career was finally beginning to take off.

As they neared the cemetery, they passed a florist. Armie asked Timmy to stop. He jumped out of the car, ran into the shop and purchased a bouquet of sunflowers. Soon after, they reached the cemetery and pulled through the wrought iron entrance. Armie asked Timmy to head to the office so that he could get the exact location of his mother’s grave. They walked into the small business office where a young man in a New York Yankees baseball cap sat behind the front desk. Armie provided his mother’s name, and the young man opened a book that looked like a ledger, searched through it and was about to provide the location to Armie, when a very old man, bald with wisps of frizzy gray hair at the sides and bulging red-veined eyes, emerged from the back room, hunched over a walking stick that scraped loudly against the wooden floor.

“We need ID,” the old man barked. Armie and Timmy recoiled at the same time, and the young man looked at the old man oddly. 

“ID? Why do I need ID?” Armie asked. “I don't have any identification on me. No one IDs me at home so I don’t carry one.”

“ID,” the old man demanded. Armie looked at Timmy, frustrated and at a loss. 

“Old man, why do we need ID? People can come and go as they please,” Timmy explained, as he swung his arms back and forth miming people coming and going. “We’re here to see our loved one. Why are you giving us a hard time?” Timmy raised his voice, enunciating each word as if the old man was both hard of hearing and understanding. 

“ID,” the old man screamed repeatedly. 

“Fine,” Timmy returned in a raised voice. Dripping with New York City attitude, Timmy retrieved his wallet from his pocket and then dramatically pulled out his SAG card. “Here,” he said. He raised his hand, the card squeezed between his thumb and index finger, and then dropped it. The card floated through the air and landed on the desk with a gentle thud. 

“Write down your name and address,” the old man demanded, pointing to the ledger. The young man scrambled and turned the book to Timmy for him to write down his name and address. The young man jotted down the grave location on a piece of paper and handed it to Armie. 

Timmy rolled his eyes and announced, “And that’s why I stay away from upstate NY.” He turned to Armie and said, “Come on Armie, let’s get out of here, away from this...this... _crypt keeper_.” 

As the door swung close behind them, the young man could be heard asking, “Why did we need to get ID? We never do that for our visitors.”

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Armie stood looking down at his mother’s grave. It looked bare, compared to some of the surrounding ones, adorned with flags, angels and other decorations. He thought about purchasing the seasonal care service provided by the cemetery. However, he did not want to deal with that jarring crypt keeper again. Instead he laid the bouquet he bought on the grave. He updated his mother about what he had been up to, how Daya took good care of him, and how they had gone far away as she had asked them to. With tears sliding off his jaw, Armie told his mother he loved her and missed her. Before he turned away, he took out the small camera tucked in his pocket and snapped a photo of the grave, uncertain of when he would be back to visit again. Then, with hands buried deep into his front pockets, he walked slowly back to the Zipcar where Timmy leaned quietly, giving Armie space to be with his mother, waiting. When Armie stood in front of him, Timmy hugged him, and Armie wrapped his arms around Timmy, melting into him. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

They returned to the city in the afternoon. Timmy played tour guide, as he drove them by the river, separating New York and New Jersey, through Central Park and then back across town. 

“Hungry?” Timmy asked. 

“Yeah, can we have pizza? I had a bagel this morning. Now I want pizza!”

Timmy dropped off the Zipcar, since at that time of day, it was more efficient for them to move around on foot. He took Armie to a local pizza joint, and they ordered four cheese slices and two Cokes. 

Armie bit into the hot pizza and yelped as it burned the roof of his mouth. 

“Rookie mistake,” Timmy poked fun at Armie and laughed. 

When they were done eating, Armie said sincerely, “Timmy, thanks for everything. I hope that I didn’t derail your day, calling out of the blue. I appreciate everything.” 

“Are you kidding Armie. Anything for you.” Timmy added sheepishly, “Um, do you want to come back and see the apartment I just moved into? My roommate isn’t around. He’s down by the Jersey shore with his friends this week.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” 

They headed out of the pizza joint into the hot summer evening. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Armie and Timmy joked around as they entered Timmy’s building, a brown brick five story walk up in Midtown’s Hell’s Kitchen. They tugged on each other’s shirt tails trying to slow the other down as they raced up the stairs, vying to see who could get to the third floor first. They were in good spirit, as they burst through the stairwell door. 

“Wait a second, why is my door open?” Timmy mumbled as they approached his apartment. He put his hand up, instructing Armie to stop. He pulled out his phone and checked to see if there were any messages from his roommate or the building superintendent. Nothing.

“Wait, let me go.” Armie whispered, grabbing Timmy’s arm. 

“No way, I’ll check,” Timmy whispered back. 

“But what if there’s a robber in there or something. I’ll check.”

“If there’s a robber, what are you going to do? You don't even know the apartment. I’ll check,” Timmy jerked his head and waved his hand about as if to say, see my point. 

They continued to bicker over who should check the apartment. Finally, Timmy took charge, walked to the door and pushed it open slowly. A man stood in the middle of the apartment, with his back turned. “Who the hell are you,” Timmy demanded from the front doorway. 

“Hey! What’s your relation to Victoria Murphy?” The man yelled and charged towards Timmy at the door. 

Timmy turned around and yelled, “Run.” Timmy slammed the front door behind him. They re-entered the stairwell. “Just run!” Timmy shut the door, reached into the adjoining trash room, grabbed the recycle bin, and braced the bin firmly against the door. He ran down the stairs. When he got to the bottom of the first flight, Armie stood there resolute, looking up, waiting. 

“I told you to run,” Timmy said incredulously.

“I’m not leaving you!” Armie said, defending his choice. 

They raced down the stairs and burst through the entrance to the building onto the evening sidewalk. “Go right,” Timmy said. When they rounded the corner, Timmy grabbed Armie’s arm and pulled him into the Round the Clock laundromat. They ducked into the corner of the laundromat, away from the sight of anyone standing outside, and tried to catch their breaths. Timmy placed a finger over his mouth indicating to the guy who worked there that he should keep their whereabouts quiet. They guy went back to work, unfazed and indifferent, as if this was something that happened every day in the neighborhood.

The man from the apartment ran to the corner, halted and swung his head back and forth, searching. “That’s him,” Timmy whispered and pointed. Armie pulled out his pocket camera and clandestinely snapped a photo of the man. After a few beats, the man continued across the avenue. 

“I think he asked what’s my relation to your mother,” Timmy updated Armie when they were in the clear.

“What!”

“Yeah. Victoria. Victoria Murphy.”

“I think we need to see Devon now. His office is on Avenue of the Americas.” 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Armie and Timmy sat side by side in a conference room in Devon’s law office suite. The office suite was large and bright, nothing like the small shabby office Armie recalled from many years earlier when Devon had just started his own practice.

Devon walked in and Armie stood up hurriedly. “Armie, my goodness! Look how tall you are.” Devon shook Armie’s hand and patted his back. Next he extended his hand to Timmy and said, “Mr. Chalamet, nice to meet you.” Timmy shook his hand. “Gentlemen, please sit down.” They all sat down, Devon at the head, and Armie and Timmy on the right side of the large table.

“So Armie, I thought that Daya told you to stay put until tomorrow.” Devon sighed and Armie flushed. “In hindsight, I should have had you stay with me. I’m going to call in Virgil, a detective who works for the firm. He is ex-NYPD. We’re going to go over everything.” 

Devon punched a number into the Polycom and rang Virgil. In a few short minutes, Virgil knocked and walked into the conference room. He held two pouches and a small leather moleskine notebook and pencil in his hand. Armie and Timmy clumsily stood up, introduced themselves and shook his hand. Virgil took a seat to Devon’s left.

Armie and Timmy detailed a timeline of everything that happened that day. Virgil jotted down notes in the notebook and asked whether they got the cemetery director’s name and a few other clarifying questions as they gave their account. Finally, Virgil turned to Devon, noted that the cemetery director was likely an informant, which was not uncommon, and advised that Armie and Timmy as a precaution lay low for at least the next forty-eight hours, while he looked into things. 

Devon thought for a second and asked, “The cabin?” Virgil nodded.

“Okay, Armie, you can’t go back to the hotel, and Timothée, you should not return to the apartment. Not yet anyway.”

Timmy chimed in, “I can go to my mother’s.” Timmy turned to Armie. “We can go to my mother’s. She’s not far from my apartment.”

“I wouldn’t advise that,” Devon stated. “Virgil here can take you both to a secure cabin, just a couple of hours upstate.”

“Upstate again,” Timmy mumbled, but then looked at Armie and nodded.

“I’ll need your phones,” Virgil said and slid the pouches across the table. “Also, Timothée’s building and apartment keys and mother’s address and the memory card with the photo of the man you saw at the apartment.” 

As Timmy handed over the items, he warned, “I spoke to my mother this morning. If she doesn’t hear from me in a couple of days she’s going to come looking for me, and if she doesn’t find me, she’s heading straight to the Midtown North police station.” 

Armie handed over his phone and the card, and then the detective said, “We should get going. It’s getting late.” Everyone stood up.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on? What does this have to do with my mother?” Armie asked Devon. 

“Just give me a few days. You’ll know everything by the end of the week. Everything will be fine,” Devon assured him.

“Do I have a choice? I feel like a fish out of water and now I’ve involved Timmy,” Armie said. He looked and felt deflated. 

Timmy gently touched Armie’s hand. “It’s okay Armie. I’m glad I was with you. I can only imagine if you had taken the railroad up to Westchester County and were on your own in a strange place, especially after dealing with that creepy informant crypt keeper. Who knows what would have happened?”

“Yes, but—“

Timmy held up his hand, nodded, and said firmly, “Armie, it's better this way.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shout out to the TV series _Tales from the Crypt_ for the inspiration for the cemetery director - https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0096708/
> 
> **By the Seaside Playlist - Part II**  
>  Jay-Z & Alicia Keys ~ _Empire State of Mind_ ~ https://youtu.be/QsZlY0Vz4-o  
> 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie and Timmy lay low at a hidden cabin in Upstate New York.

It took them over two hours to travel to the cabin. They stopped twice along the way. First, for takeout at a burger joint drive-thru along the highway. Armie and Timmy devoured their meal silently in the backseat of the tinted window SUV while Virgil sipped on coffee. Next, they pulled into a twenty-four hour Walmart supercenter. Virgil asked if either needed any medication for the next seventy-two hours. They both shook their heads. Armie asked for a memory card and was about to reach for his billfold when Virgil told them to remain in the vehicle and slammed the door shut. Virgil went into the supercenter and soon returned with two shopping bags, and they were back on the road once again. 

Armie fell asleep briefly, mentally exhausted. He slumped in the seat and his head tipped over on Timmy’s shoulders. Timmy wrapped his arm around him. When he awakened, he peered through the window and saw a _Welcome to Woodstock, New York_ sign. Soon after, they pulled into a densely wooded area and up to a hidden cabin. The closest house was miles away. 

“We’re here,” Virgil announced. 

They entered the cabin. Virgil rested the shopping bags on the dining table and quickly showed them around the two-bedroom cabin, before returning to the bags. One was filled with perishable food—milk, bread, eggs and the like. He told them that the kitchen cabinets were stocked with non-perishables. The other had packages of undergarments, pair of active shorts, basic toiletries and the memory card that Armie requested. When he was done, Virgil instructed them not to leave the surrounding property and handed them a magnetic key for the front door and something that looked like a life alert button. He showed them how to activate the device should there be an emergency, and by emergency he clarified that meant only if one of their lives was in jeopardy. He asked if there were any questions. When Armie and Timmy both shook their heads, he said, “Then, see you no later than Friday.” Armie tried to thank him and apologize for the inconvenience. Virgil simply said it was his job and left. 

“Timmy—.” Armie wanted to apologize once again. 

“Don’t.” Timmy tried to put a stop to Armie’s plea. 

“All this...I don’t even know what to think anymore. Daya was cryptic, not entirely forthcoming. And I don’t know Devon that well.”

“Well, something is going on, something with your mother. But I think you can trust Devon. I saw the way he looked at you. He cares about you. I think he’s looking out for your best interest. He wouldn’t have some detective dude drive you, well us, all the way up here on a Tuesday night, if he didn’t.”

Armie picked up the bags and headed to the refrigerator and began to pack the items away. “Well, I didn’t think this was how I was going to spend my birthday, sequestered in a cabin in…Upstate New York.”

“Wait a second, it’s your birthday? You didn't tell me that it’s your birthday.”

“Yeah, tomorrow. I turn twenty-one. I was supposed to meet Devon at his office, then I was planning to visit the modern art museum.”

“Tomorrow…Twenty-one is an important birthday. You become official, you know.”

“Official, what does that even mean?” He took the packages out of the other shopping bag and threw the small-sized clothing to Timmy, keeping the large for himself. 

Timmy easily caught them. “Well, that’s a birthday milestone in the States. And, I’m sorry that you won’t get to go to the MOMA and instead you’re stuck with me in a cabin with no one around for miles.” He pouted playfully.

“I didn’t think that you would be around. I thought you were in North Carolina filming your series. Besides, Daya sort of told me to stay away. As you can see, I didn’t listen.”

“From me? Why did she want you to stay away from me? What did I do? I thought she liked me,” Timmy said, offended. 

“She didn’t want me to get distracted.” Armie ran his hand through his hair. “Think she knows that I _like_ you,” he mumbled and changed the subject. “We should call it a night.”

They took turns in the bathroom and said goodnight to each other. Armie agreed to take the master bedroom and Timmy the other. Armie was trying to make himself comfortable, fluffing the pillow over and over, when Timmy walked into the bedroom. 

“I don’t want to sleep in that other room. Can I get in?”

“Yeah, everything okay?” Armie scooted over and made space on the king-sized bed.

“Yeah.” Timmy jumped into the bed with a bounce and made himself comfortable where Armie was.

They settled in and turned off the light.

After a few minutes, Timmy said, “You know, I _like_ you too.”

After their long, emotion and adrenaline filled day, they quickly fell asleep. However, several hours into his sleep, Armie woke suddenly, calling out his mother’s name. 

“Armie, you were having a bad dream. You're at the cabin,” Timmy said, as Armie got his bearings. Then, he asked softly, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No. No. I’m fine.”

Timmy scooted closer to Armie, held him, and reassured him that everything was going to be okay, that it was all just a bad dream, that it was not real.

Timmy adjusted himself and cradled Armie tenderly against his chest. Shortly thereafter, they returned to sleep.

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓ 

In the morning, Armie awakened, somewhat disoriented. Fragments of his nightmare came back to him. He was being chased by the crypt keeper. Despite his old age and the cane, the crypt keeper remained right on Armie’s heels, and despite Armie’s height and speed, he could not get ahead. He shuddered, shook off the awful dream, and got out of bed. 

He found Timmy in the kitchen, the counter littered with all sorts of stuff—food, utensils, dishes, pots.

“Big Guy! Happy Birthday! I’m making you breakfast. Also, ta-da, a cake mix. We can have birthday cake,” Timmy exclaimed jovially.

Armie smiled. “Wow, look at all this.” Armie watched Timmy in action for a few minutes. It did not take him long to realize that Timmy did not have a clue what he was doing in the kitchen. When Timmy, with his mouth curled in an oh, held the twelve-inch frying pan in his hand as if it was some ancient unknown relic, Armie knew it was time to ease in and lend a hand. Soon, Armie took full charge of preparing the simple breakfast—scrambled eggs with cheese, sausage, and buttered toast. Timmy brewed the coffee and poured the orange juice. 

As they ate, Armie asked Timmy whether he cooked at home.

“Are you kidding. I usually eat on the set. It’s in my contract. My mother drops off food sometimes, now that I’ve moved out. Otherwise, I eat out or get takeout.”

After their late breakfast, they went for a stroll and explored the wooded area circling the cabin. They stumbled upon a shallow stream. Timmy took off his high tops and frolicked in the water, splashing about playfully. Armie smiled, sat on the warm earth, and snapped countless Timmy memories that day with his pocket camera, grateful that Virgil had gotten a large memory card. Timmy invited Armie to join him in the stream. Armie laughed as he said no way. Despite the summer heat, he had no desire to get soaked. 

They returned to the cabin late in the hot humid afternoon. Timmy insisted that _he_ make the cake. Armie carefully measured out the four ingredients for him, and Timmy whisked it all together into a creamy batter under Armie’s careful watch. Armie buttered the baking pan and Timmy poured the batter. 

“What a team we are,” Timmy exclaimed, patting Armie’s back. 

As the birthday cake baked in the oven, Timmy jumped in the shower, and Armie scoped out their food supply for dinner. He settled on and prepared spaghetti with jarred marinara sauce and canned mixed vegetables. By the time Timmy emerged refreshed from his shower, wearing one of the t-shirts and boxers from the packages Virgil had purchased, everything was done, the smell of cake wafting through the cabin. Armie jumped in the shower. When he emerged, Timmy had set the table for their birthday meal, managed to dig up a bottle of wine from some hidden corner of the cabin, and was eyeing the books that lined the bookcase. “I wonder who usually comes to this cabin. There’s a copy of _Gone with the Wind_ here. I wonder if anyone is ever here long enough to finish it.” He rubbed his hands together excitedly and announced, “Let’s eat!”

They sat down and devoured the simple meal and drank the red wine, which was surprisingly pleasant. 

Timmy held up his glass for a toast, after he poured what was left of the wine, finishing off the bottle. “Well Armie, happy twenty-first birthday. As my grandma would say, may you have many more _mon trésor_. I realize that we couldn’t have fillet mignon today, but what can I say, this is what we get when we’re on the lam,” Timmy joked.

“We’re not on the lam,” Armie said and threw his napkin at Timmy. “Even though I’m still not quite sure what this is.”

“And sorry, you had to miss out on the great works of art at the MOMA.”

“You’re a work of art so I didn’t miss anything.” Armie raised his glass, drank to Timmy, and finished his wine in a big savoring gulp. 

“So, shall we have cake? Head over to the sofa and I’ll bring it over,” Timmy suggested. “By the way, where’s your camera?”

Armie retrieved the camera, went to the sofa as instructed, and lounged on it. Soon, Timmy toddled through the cabin carefully balancing the cake and folded napkins, while crooning happy birthday Marilyn Monroe style. Armie shot a video of the performance and snapped more memories. Timmy finally rested the cake and napkins on the coffee table. 

“I couldn’t find any candles. So, I figured we could use this.” He removed a toothpick from in between one of the napkins, poked it in the middle of the cake, and lit it. “Now, hurry. Make a wish and blow it out before we burn the cabin down and really piss off your uncle.” Timmy took the camera and Armie now became the subject. 

Armie shook his head, “You're something else.” He blew the flimsy flame out and looked around. “I’ll get plates.” He started to get up but Timmy told him not to.

“I think you should smash it like a one year old.”

“Smash it?”

“Yeah, I remember when my little cousin turned one, he got a smash cake and he just went to town with the damn thing. It looked like so much fun. Why should one year olds have all the fun?”

“Okay, let’s smash it!” Armie smiled mischievously.

Armie dug into the soft yellow cake with his right hand, chunked out a large piece and stuffed it in his mouth. Timmy dug in as well. As Armie finished up the chunk, Timmy reached for another one and moved towards Armie playfully threatening to smash him with the cake. Armie intercepted and wrestled him saying, “Oh no, you don’t.” They toppled over onto the cabin floor, Timmy touching down on top of Armie. They laughed uproariously. As their laughter melted away, they locked eyes, and the mood changed and became charged. Armie placed his left hand behind Timmy’s head and pulled him closer for a sweet, sugary kiss. When the kiss ended, they opened their eyes and smiled at each other. 

“Timmy, we should probably talk about this, about what this means,” Armie whispered.

Timmy pushed himself up, returned to the sofa and cleaned his hand with a napkin. Armie followed suit. Next, Timmy leaned over, rested his elbows on his knees, clasped his hands together, looked at the cabin floor, brows furrowed, and asked why. 

“Well...because. Neither of us,” Armie said frustratingly. “Well, because this is new for me, for us—“

“You see, you don’t even know what’s happening either. Armie, you could be getting on a plane and returning home any minute now. So, why waste time? Why don’t we just go with it? Don’t you want to?”

“Timmy, I would kiss you all night, if I could.”

“Well...why don’t you?”

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓ 

That night, in bed, Armie and Timmy asked each other questions in between wet kisses. Even though they had gotten to know each other well in some respects, Armie did not know basics such as Timmy’s birthday. Timmy told him the date and then shared, “I became official last December.” 

So, arms wrapped around each other, in between kisses, they made little discoveries about each other—about every day things such as favorite color, song, movie, sport, car, and food.

“And what turns you on?” Armie whispered the intimate question into Timmy’s ear, as his hands unwittingly raked over his back riding up his t-shirt and exposing cool skin. Armie slid his hand under the shirt and _touched_.

Feeling Armie’s hand under his crumpled t-shirt, Timmy did not answer. Instead, he whispered back, “Take it off.”

They sat up. Armie removed Timmy’s t-shirt and then his own. He scooted against the headboard and Timmy straddled him across his thighs. Timmy rubbed both hands slowly over Armie’s bare shoulders and down his chest to his belly button and grazed his happy trail. He studied his hands as he did so. He seemed to revel in being able to look at Armie’s body and being able to finally touch him at the same time. 

Armie continued to rake his hands up and down Timmy’s back, pushing past the waist of his boxers. Their lips returned to each other and they kissed. They enjoyed kissing each other. Timmy's hands moved to Armie’s sandy blond hair and he pulled on it as Armie wrapped his own hands around Timmy’s bare ass and pulled him a little closer. Armie liked the feel of the firm flesh and his long finger slid naturally between the cheeks. 

“You can stick it in,” Timmy said, his lips resting over Armie’s, then biting down gently on the lower lip. Armie halted the kiss and pulled back.

“What?” Armie asked, incredulous.

“You can stick it in,” Timmy said again. “Your finger.”

“ _Oh!_ ”

“What did you think I—”

“Nothing!” Armie said abruptly and returned to Timmy’s lips. 

When they parted again, Timmy asked, “Before, you didn’t think...you _want_ to do that?”

Armie hardened even more at the thought of being with Timmy in that way. He pulled Timmy closer saying, “Come here you.” Timmy was now flushed against him. He leaned back, and with one hand on the small of Timmy’s back, he plunged the long finger from his other hand into Timmy’s mouth. With a smoldering look, Timmy held Armie’s hand and pushed the finger deep into his mouth and then out, sucking and laving it generously with his saliva. “You are a little devil, Cherub,” Armie whispered. 

Armie yanked Timmy’s boxers down mid thigh, easily lifting him as he did so. “Ready?” Timmy, green eyes wickedly aroused, nodded. Timmy tightened reflexively as Armie slid his finger in. As he thrust in and out slowly, Armie kissed him, bit his chin gently and sucked on his neck. 

When Armie increased the speed of his thrusts, Timmy let out a loud moan and Armie paused. “Don’t stop,” Timmy directed. “ _There_ , that feels good.” Timmy’s chin fell onto Armie’s shoulder, and he buried his face into Armie’s neck. He whispered _there_ and _right there_ between moans as Armie continued to finger him. Timmy's moans fueled Armie’s thrusts, and Armie never wanted to pleasure anyone as he did in that moment. Lost in their rhythm and without any warning, Timmy came like a geyser and gushed up and over both of their bodies. Armie smiled and planted kisses on the side of Timmy’s face. They wrapped their arms around each other snugly. 

When Timmy’s heartbeat steadied, Armie said they should clean up. Armie helped Timmy lay down on the bed and went to get something to clean them up with. In the bathroom, he surveilled his reflection in the mirror and smiled to himself as he wiped Timmy’s come from his chest with a cloth. Everything felt surreal—Timmy, what he wanted to do to him, this hidden cabin. Where was he anyway? He rinsed the cloth out and drifted back to the bedroom. Timmy had not moved. He laid there, boxers wrapped around, binding his thighs. 

Armie sat on the bed, leaned over Timmy and kissed him. He admired his lean body as he wiped him with the damp cloth and dried him with a towel. He was about to ask Timmy if he wanted the boxers on or off, but instead he got on his knees, pulled the light cotton fabric off and tossed it to the foot of the bed. He looked down at Timmy and admired him sprawled out and displayed before him. 

“Why am I the only one here with no clothes on?” Timmy asked, his voice hoarse.

“I don’t know. You’re the one spewing all over.” Armie shrugged and smirked.

Timmy leapt up and wrestled Armie so that he landed on his back on the bed. “You’re pretty strong there,” Armie said admiringly. 

“Aha, the element of surprise Big Guy. My secret strategy.”

Timmy got on his knees, slowly pulled Armie boxers down his long legs and tossed them next to his boxers at the foot of the bed.

He looked down at Armie, pursed his lips and asked, “Should I state the obvious or will a _damn_ simply suffice?”

“Okay, so you got me naked. Now, what are you gonna do?” Armie challenged. He shot Timmy his smoldering look. 

Timmy stilled, as if contemplating and itemizing the things he could do to Armie. Finally, he admitted, “I actually have no clue what I’m doing. So, I’m going to just explore.” Timmy parted Armie’s legs, crawled in between them and did exactly what he said he would do. He inhaled him and nuzzled his nose into his pubis. He ran his hands over his cock, massaged the head with his thumb, encircled the shaft between his thumb and index finger, admired its girth and then tugged the balls. He ran a finger over his anus. Armie tensed, so he moved his finger away. 

“Sorry, I’ve only ever held my own. Do you mind?” Armie looked at Timmy and shook his head and laid back staring at the wooden ceiling of the cabin. He was surprised at how comfortable he was allowing Timmy to just explore.

By the time Timmy was done exploring, Armie was fully hard and ready. Timmy licked his hand and wrapped it around Armie’s shaft and began to move it up and down. Armie moaned when he felt Timmy’s mouth engulfed him. He tilted his head and looked at him and was mesmerized, watching Timmy’s sensuous pink lips move over him, hearing his soft grunts. Timmy kept at it, his mouth attentive as he moved from Armie’s head, slid down the shaft and swallowed the balls. Armie enjoyed every sensation, and when Timmy attempted to take in all of him, he finally lost it, cried out a warning and came. Timmy kept at it and sucked him through his orgasm until Armie could not take it any more, pulled away and protectively covered his cock. 

Timmy rolled over on his back, placed his hands over his face and smiled beneath, not believing he just did what he did. He licked his lips and rolled his tongue around in his mouth, taking in the taste. Then, he curled up next to Armie and draped his arm lazily across Armie’s chest. 

“I’ve never met anyone like you. So talented, cute, clever, adventurous. You’re amazing.” Armie said and kissed Timmy. Then he turned the bedroom lights off. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

The next morning Armie and Timmy awakened in a state of horniness that only heightened as the day progressed. It started in bed when Armie nipped Timmy’s ear and wrapped his large warm hand around his shaft. “Fuck Armie, your hand feels so good,” Timmy moaned as Armie tugged. 

Then Armie was whipping up muffins from a mix he found in the cabinet. Timmy fell to his knees and gave Armie a blow job right there in the kitchen. “Fuck Armie, you taste so good.” 

They took a shower together. Armie allowed Timmy to slip a finger in him as they frotted in the small bathroom of the cabin. After they came, Armie slumped against the tile, and Timmy gripped the handle on the steamy glass tub door, until it crackled. “Fuck Armie, did I break the door?” 

They went outside to get some clean fresh air. They laid down next to the stream and started pleasuring themselves, side by side. “Armie, can you do it? It feels so much better when you do it,” Timmy begged. Armie bent over, pushed up Timmy’s t-shirt, and battered his round nipples with teeth, tongue and lips until they glistened like the scalding sun. He plunged his tongue into his belly button and then took Timmy in his mouth right there by the water’s edge. “Fuck Armie, your tongue is heaven,” Timmy said as he thrusted deeply into Armie’s mouth.

Around dinnertime, they took a breather from the fever clawing at them. 

Brain hazy, Armie replicated the same meal as the night before. Timmy produced another bottle of red wine. “Where are you finding this wine?” Armie marveled. He had yet to see any wine in the cabin. 

“Armie, I’m not telling,” Timmy said coyly. 

Armie poured out the final two glasses of wine. Momentarily lucid, Timmy hesitantly asked Armie about the future, “Armie, when this is all said and done, have you thought about what’s next? I really think you should pursue your photography. Would you consider...think about perhaps coming to the States to study?”

“Timmy, I can’t even think of what’s next, until I know what’s now,” Armie said seriously. He felt like he was in a backwater, even California was off the table until he found out what was going on. They finished the wine in silence. To lighten the mood, Timmy suggested that they finish up the smash cake. They kissed playfully as they fed each other the remains.

They washed the dishes. Armie dried them and packed them away, and Timmy went off to the bathroom. When Armie was done, Timmy was still not out. Concerned, he knocked on the door and called out, “Timmy, everything okay?” Timmy cleared his throat and responded that everything was okay. 

Armie went to the bedroom, laid down and waited. A few minutes later, Timmy walked into the room, holding a canister the size of a small first aid kit. “I found this,” he said and handed the canister to Armie. 

Armie sat up, leaned against the headboard, looked at it curiously and popped it open. Inside were condoms and lubricant packets. Armie shook his head and chuckled. “Where did you find this?”

“Do you want to do _it_?” Timmy asked.

The mirth fell from Armie’s face. He paused and then asked, “Timmy, are you sure? This is serious. There’s no going back once you...we do this.”

“Yes, I’ve been thinking about it since you brought it up yesterday.”

“I didn’t bring it up,” Armie said, his words slight and unconvincing.

“Yes you did. That’s where your head went the second I said stick it in.”

“Well, I won’t pretend that I don’t want all of you,” Armie muttered. 

“So, let’s try it.”

And so, on the day after his twenty-first birthday, in a secluded Upstate New York cabin far from home, Armie believed that he may have truly made love for the first time. He had been to third base with Elizabeth and had numerous encounters with Lujuria guests. But he had never cared for or been so in tune with his partner before. He did not care about his own pleasure. He just wanted Timmy to feel safe and happy. 

Once prepared, they got off to a couple of false starts until Timmy got on top and straddled Armie. Armie pulled his cheeks apart and slowly moved up. Timmy slowly lowered himself, feeling his body stretch and burn, until they were delightfully joined. Their kisses were sloppy and passionate. Timmy set the rhythm of their lovemaking, going slow and steady and then gradually increasing, until his weakened thighs trembled, his head fell back, and his mouth opened rapturously in an explosion of pleasure. Hearing this, Armie gripped Timmy tightly and hastened his own thrusts until he came just as intensely inside Timmy. When they were done, they rested their drenched foreheads together, and Armie breathed, “Thank you for being here with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **By the Seaside Playlist - Part II**  
>  Jay-Z & Alicia Keys ~ _Empire State of Mind_ ~ https://youtu.be/QsZlY0Vz4-o  
> Serge Gainsbourg & Brigitte Bardot ~ _Bonnie and Clyde_ ~ https://youtu.be/Wa7wjr1NwhA  
> Jerimih ~ _Birthday Sex_ ~ https://youtu.be/vYMxOzxKYYo


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie and Timmy leave the cabin. Timmy’s mother has been looking for him and is not pleased. Armie learns more about his mother’s past as well as what Devon has planned for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Armie goes through a stormy time in this chapter. I rewrote a few times, trying not to make it too dark. There is mention of a past suicide as well as a character’s passing.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

Virgil awakened Armie and Timmy the next morning. Groggy, Armie flung his hand out to shield Timmy until he realized it was the detective knocking at the bedroom door. They got up, gathered what little they had brought with them to the cabin, and placed their belongings into the Walmart shopping bags. 

On the ride back to New York City, Virgil informed Timmy that his mother did indeed go to the Midtown North police station after he missed a meeting with his agent, was not at his apartment, and then repeatedly failed to answer his phone.

“Shit, I forgot!” Timmy exclaimed and held his head. “She must have been so worried,” he continued and moved away from Armie, putting distance between them in the backseat and plopping his head on the window of the SUV. 

Armie reached for his hand, laced their fingers together, and called his name. Timmy turned his head, focused on the vast ocean behind Armie’s imploring blue eyes and then slid into his arms. Armie sighed, hugged him and buried a kiss into his tangled , wild curls. 

“Timothée, your mother did not have to worry for long. The guys at the station knew to call me the minute she wanted to report you missing. She’ll be at Devon’s office to meet you when we arrive.”

“So detective, any information on the man and that informant crypt keeper?” Armie asked.

“Yes, thanks to your photo, we identified the man who broke into Timothée’s apartment. He’ll likely be charged. Timothée, someone will be calling you for a statement. As for the cemetery director, he won’t be working there anymore.”

“And can you tell me what they wanted, why they’re doing this?”

“What I can tell you is that this is not over. Devon will update you on everything.”

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Armie and Timmy walked into the conference room at Devon’s law office. As they entered, a woman jumped up and rushed toward Timmy. Armie moved forward protectively, nudging Timmy behind him. 

“That’s my son,” The woman said in a raised voice.

“It’s okay Armie. That’s my mom.” Timmy said softly and stepped from behind Armie.

As Timmy moved forward, he was not at his finest. In fact, he did not look anything like the young, up and coming, handsome, thespian itching to take the acting world by storm. His eyes were red. His hair was a mess. His lips were swollen and his nipples raw and sensitive against his t-shirt. Red marks, burns from Armie’s growing beard, covered his jaw and chin. His body ached as he moved slowly and with care. Armie had been _everywhere_ , and Timmy’s whole body would feel him for days, and his heart and loins for years to come.

“You were supposed to meet your agent. You never showed up and no one could reach you.”

“I’m sorry I made you worried. I forgot.” Timmy shook his head apologetically, unable to make eye contact with his mother, as he tightly gripped the shopping bag in his hand.

“What happened to you?” She touched his bruised face lovingly. Timmy reddened in embarrassment, and he looked like his knees were about to buckle and he would faint at any moment. 

She wrapped her arms around him. “I should never have allowed you to move out. What was I thinking! Let’s get out of here. Let’s go home,” she said, her eyes maternal and protective. She turned and glared at Armie and Virgil, her eyes now blazing. It screamed she was not to be messed with and to stay the fuck away from her son.

Virgil handed Timmy an envelope with his business card as well as Timmy’s phone and keys. Timmy looked at Armie and mouthed _I’m sorry_ , and before any additional words could be exchanged, he and his mother exited the conference room.

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

When Armie was in the tenth grade, he went through a painful growth spurt. He grew almost a whole foot in an incredibly short period of time. Daya would help him massage a salve deep into his muscles and make him sip an elixir of ginger, pepper and local spices to help with the aches. Once he even had to be taken to a doctor to fix a bone socket that had just loosened as he walked about. Over time, Armie adjusted to and learned to live with his height. As he matured, he learned to carry himself confidently, and both men and women were attracted to his good looks and poise. However, as Devon led him down the long corridor to his office, Armie dragged his feet. His aching shoulders sagged and his bruised lips spasmed. He looked downright drained, and all poise was gone at that moment.

Once again, his world was being rocked. 

Devon motioned for Armie to sit down in the chair across from his desk. Armie looked at the large desk with folders and files stacked across it. His pupils moved to the large window behind Devon. Through his reflection, he could see a well-lit office space in the building across the street. Workers in cubicles pounded away at computers. Not wanting to deal with his own situation, he wondered what the workers across the way were dealing with.

Devon walked over to a cabinet, opened it, picked up a bottle, and poured golden amber spirit into two glasses. He rested one before Armie. Armie looked at the glass and watched as Devon walked around his desk and rested the other glass down. He took a key from his pocket, sat down, opened the lower drawer of his desk, pulled out a large file and carefully placed it before him. 

“Daya believes let bygones be bygones. But not me,” Devon professed. “Nothing about what I do is about letting bygones go. It’s about planning, making amends, and righting wrongs. It’s about holding people accountable. Armie, look at me, and allow me to tell you what’s going on and why I called you here to New York.”

“Does any of it matter?” Armie asked.

Devon sighed and opened the file. “Let’s start at the beginning. Your biological father was Armand Hammer, a hailed but ruthless industrialist. He was married but was known to have a number of mistresses outside the marriage. Your mother was one of those mistresses.” 

Devon pushed a certificate in front of Armie. “This is your original birth certificate from the state of California. You were named after him. That is why your mother always referred to you as Armie, why everyone now calls you Armie. However, when his wife found out about you, she demanded that you and your mother disappear, and that’s what happened. After all, it was primarily her family’s wealth, not his own, that funded most of his business enterprises and massive art collections. So a new birth certificate was issued. We won’t get into how that was allowed to happen. Let’s just say that it was done in less than legal channels. You were renamed Douglas Murphy, Victoria’s family name, no father listed.” 

Devon pushed the other certificate across the desk. Armie looked at the documents, side by side, somehow legally certifying two versions of him—one a fathered Hammer, the other a fatherless Murphy. He shook his head. What did any of this really matter at this point? 

“Bernard, a military colonel at the time, and the man you know as dad, was encouraged financially by Hammer to marry your mother. This was okay by my brother. He had been trying to court your mother when he was stationed in California and was happy to have her in his life. It’s not clear how Hammer convinced Victoria. I suspect that you were a big part of her decision. In the end, she said yes when Bernard proposed, they got married, and together, you all moved to Texas.” 

Devon pushed the marriage certificate across the desk towards Armie.

“Unfortunately, your mother did not know how troubled my brother was.” Devon picked up his glass and sat back in the plush leather office chair and took a sip. “That’s how I got to know your mother so well, came to love her. When Bennie returned to Texas, his mental health deteriorated, and we all had to deal with it. Part of it was PTSD from his military service, but he had always been troubled, from childhood and refused to get proper treatment. We tried to keep all of this from you, tried to make life as normal as possible. It was a difficult time. And then he left us, just ended it.”

“It was an accident. That’s what mom said, an accident. That’s how he passed away,” Armie whispered and reached for his own glass, his throat now arid. He closed his eyes and tried to recall his dad, but the memories were vacant. There was little to draw on. He was too young, and they were not close.

“Hmmm.” Devon took a sip, paused for a long moment and then continued, “After that, I moved here to New York City to get my law career off the ground, train at one of the larger, prestigious firms here…move forward, you know. I relocated you and your mother nearby to Westchester County. But I was so busy at the law firm, the hours were grueling. After Daya’s mother passed away, that damn disease in their blood took her, I asked Daya to relocate here too, to live with you both. Be there because I couldn’t. You know that part...well.”

Armie’s mouth moved up in a small smile. “I remember when Daya came to live with us. Do you remember her hair back then? So long. It glistened like black onyx and fell all the way down her back. I used to watch my mom braid it. I would pull it and run whenever I wanted her to play with me, to chase me. And she would.” Armie’s mouth moved up in a larger smile at the fond memory of his guardian. In that moment, he wished he could return to those days, feel his mother’s warmth, feel being joyfully caught and swept up by Daya. But they were...bygone days.

“She spoiled you!” Devon said, feigning disapproval. “Life was good for a while. Then one day, out of the blue, a mistress of Hammer, Hilary Wade, tracked down your mother and told her that Hammer had passed away, that there was a Swiss bank account that Hammer had left for her Wade, his mistress at the time of his death, and Victoria, the mother of one of his children. However, Hammer’s wife and other son denied the account was left to Hilary and Victoria and somehow produced paperwork invalidating Hammer’s request. Hilary would not let it slide though. She insisted that Hammer had promised that she would be taken care of. After all, she had given up her life for Hammer—her husband, her children, and even her identity.”

“Her identity?” Armie asked, not understanding.

“When Hammer’s wife told him to get rid of his mistress, Hammer made Hilary Wade change her name, hair color, and overall appearance so that it would look like he got rid of her. He simply made her into someone new and resumed the twelve-year affair,” Devon explained.

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, but let me continue. Once Wade legally challenged the Hammers about the account, by default, the situation involved Victoria. Wade would not relent. She was going to get what was owed her. She had learned from the best—Hammer himself. It was not long after that your mother’s mental health took a downturn. She became very nervous, convinced that the Hammers were watching you and her, and wanted you both to disappear again, this time permanently. And Armie, you know what eventually happened—the accident—and then you and Daya got far away from here, like Victoria wanted, to live by the seaside.” 

Devon finished his drink in one final swig. He was quiet for a few minutes, caught up in his memories, how he could have handled things differently. He wrapped his hand around his head and massaged his temples, aggravating painful memories. Soon, he teared up and broke down.

“You really loved her, didn’t you?” Armie whispered, observing Devon.

The specter of Victoria now consumed the Midtown office space and tears began to spill down Armie’s face.

“I loved her and should have been there when everything was falling apart,” Devon said gravely. It was clear that he still had not forgiven himself for failing Victoria. 

Minutes passed as the men took the time they needed to control their emotions. 

Armie finished his drink and they sat in silence for a few minutes longer. 

Suddenly, Devon straightened up at his desk, the lover was gone and the lawyer had returned and was back in charge. He said, “This matter has been going on for _years_ , but the situation pivoted when Wade traveled to Switzerland and somehow managed to get her hands on Hammer’s original intent for the account. How she did that, I will never know. The document has been authenticated by the bankers and clearly shows that the account was entrusted to Wade and your mother. It’s a document that the Hammers, even with the best attorney, have tried to refute but have been unable to do so. Hammer's wife then tried to make a claim that it was her money in the account. However, forensics have shown that the money was tied only to Hammer, money he grew from his father’s estate. This legal battle has taken years but the end is near. As executor of your mother’s estate, I have filed a claim on your behalf. You are now twenty-one, the age of legal majority. Once the matter is settled, the proceeds of the account will be paid equally to Wade and to you, as Victoria’s sole heir.”

Armie sat speechless, but as he was about to say something, Devon continued. “I have learned a lot about this family over the years and understand them quite well now. They are bullies, and you got a taste this week. This is what we are going to do. Tomorrow, you are scheduled to take a paternity test, which will legally confirm posthumously that you are Hammer’s biological son. As Hammer’s biological son, you are deemed an heir of his, and this paves the way for us to pursue other claims. I have already initiated the paperwork and am ready to—”

“I don’t want any of this money,” Armie spat, interrupting Devon. He got up and paced back and forth and around the office, working himself up, until his blood boiled and a vein protruded from his unblemished forehead. “I don’t want this, this, this money,” he stuttered. “This money is not going to bring my mom back. Right before she passed away, she was a mess. You should have seen her Devon. Telling Daya to take me away, begging her to swear that she would. Packing escape bags. Practically telling me goodbye every morning. This money is not going to bring her back, and I don’t want it, from some...some father who was never there, who never wanted me.” 

Armie swung around and looked at Devon. His mind was racing wildly, and he felt like he could barely formulate a thought. The gaunt face of the crypt keeper in his nightmare flashed before his eyes. “You should have heard that crypt keeper screaming at us for ID. Then, that, that goon chasing us, scaring us, scaring my Timmy and breaking into his apartment.” Armie froze. “The way his mother looked at me!” 

_I have to stay away from him, keep him away from all of this._

Armie paced some more and then placed his hands over his head, another realization kicking him in the gut. “And Daya, she gave up her whole life for me. It’s like she was roped into taking care of me. All that energy that went into checking out any strangers that wanted to get close to me, always so excruciatingly protective.” Armie removed his hand from his head, stared at Devon through red-rimmed eyes, and said gravely, “No, I don’t want any of this money.”

Devon sat calmly and watched Armie pace frantically around his office. He was accustomed to dealing with all sorts of clients, including distressed ones. “Armie, please sit down,” he said evenly. Armie begrudgingly fell back into the chair, his chest heaving up and down before eventually steadying. 

Devon looked at the young man he considered a nephew, son of the woman he loved, and a client, and said firmly, “First of all, Daya loves you. She loved your mother, and you are like a son to her. Don’t think for one minute otherwise. Second, after this transgression with the cemetery director and intruder, we have made it clear to the Hammers and everyone else that we are willing to pursue criminal and civil charges to the fullest. They may have bullied your mother and tried to bully you this week, but I have made it clear that we won’t be bullied any longer. Third, and I am only going to say this once, you _are_ going to take the money. Now I don’t really care what you do with it, as long as you are not self destructive. Give it all away. Build a legacy in your mother’s name. It doesn’t matter to me. But too many people have been impacted, and too many people have fought to get to this point. When this is settled, you will take the money and all this will be over.”

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

It would take two more years to fully settle all the estate issues and claims. The Hammers tried every legal shenanigan to keep from turning over any monies. By the end of it all, when all legal resources were exhausted, Armie was a multi-millionaire. Devon made sure of that. But now, Daya was gone, claimed swiftly by the same illness that took her mother before her and her grandmother before her mother. 

Armie had received yet another blow in his short life.

Needing to get away, Armie escaped into the south hills, hiking, plunging from the cliffs when he needed to cool off, taking photos of crimson sunsets and improving his Spanish. He had finally committed to learning Spanish fluently, and Daya spoke the language of her father with him regularly during her final year. 

One day, Ms. Ruby looked in on him. Her bony fingers pushed medicinal herbs between his long ones, as she prescribed— _No one can mend your shattered heart, but this will move the blood as it should_. Armie steeped the bitter leaves in the sun, storing it in a water bottle. He sipped it, as the indigenous and locals did years before him, when the heart needed it—when Armie was fraught with memories of his mother, when he ached for his guardian, when his belly and groin stirred for... _no, don’t think about him_.

One sunny day, Armie decided what was next for him. He packed up his supplies, flung his sack on his back and left the hills. He ran into Ms. Ruby during his hurried descent, and she gave him a slight smile, as if to say, _that’s right, keep moving_. Before she vanished into the bush, she reminded Armie— _Your friend, he will be a king and then a messiah; it is then that his fate will be sealed. But you have to make sure he remembers there is only one most supreme_. Now that Armie had an inkling of clarity for the future, he could not process what Ms. Ruby was saying. He was eager to move on to the next phase of his life.

Armie applied to an arts program in Spain and was easily admitted. He was going to pursue _his_ art—photography. On the way to Europe, he laid over in New York. This time, he stayed with Devon at his Long Island home. He met his lovely wife, a sweet woman from Belize, and got to know his beautiful, energetic cousins. After several days, on a rainy Sunday evening, Devon drove him to JFK airport. Outside the terminal, Devon fondly kissed his nephew on both cheeks, hugged him and said, “ _Mijo_ , if you need anything, call me. I’m here for you.”

Armie sat in the JFK terminal, waiting for his flight to be called for boarding, reading a novel on his e-reader. He heard two girls squeal in the row next to him, eyes affixed to a muted, closed captioned tv monitor hanging from a column in the terminal. He looked to see what had captured their attention. It was a trailer for a romantic comedy. In the lead were Timmy and a young starlet Armie was not familiar with. Armie watched Timmy move about the screen, handsome and expressive as ever. He turned and looked at the young girls, briefly distracted by their delight. 

He closed his eyes and remembered Timmy as he last saw him, after Woodstock, being pulled away by his mother in Devon’s law office. Then, longing ballooned in his chest and belly, and, as he had learned to do since that hot summer day, he quickly shoved the feeling to the side and chanted silently, _Let it go...move forward_. 

He returned to the e-reader and closed out the novel that he was reading. He mindlessly pulled up Neruda’s _Cien sonetos de amor_ as he often did without realizing. He scrolled to Sonnet XVII, and his heart calmed a little as he read the words. By the time he reached the second stanza, he began to murmur the words out loud... _I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom, but carries the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself..._

**~End of Part II~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **By the Seaside Playlist - Part II**  
>  Jay-Z & Alicia Keys ~ _Empire State of Mind_ ~ https://youtu.be/QsZlY0Vz4-o  
> Serge Gainsbourg & Brigitte Bardot ~ _Bonnie and Clyde_ ~ https://youtu.be/Wa7wjr1NwhA  
> Jerimih ~ _Birthday Sex_ ~ https://youtu.be/vYMxOzxKYYo  
> ABBA ~ _Money, Money, Money_ ~ https://youtu.be/ETxmCCsMoD0  
> Coldplay ~ _Every Teardrop Is a Waterfall_ ~ https://youtu.be/fyMhvkC3A84


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nature and her cunning way. Years later, unexpectantly, Armie runs into Timmy and his heart begins to pound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. You are awesome and your comments fueled me. Despite everything going on, CMBYN and this fandom had been a salve for me and inspired me to tap into my own creativity. I’m very appreciative of the readers, the writers and the opportunity...

**Part III**

Armie looked wearily at the two nude women sleeping in his bed. From the terracotta mug in his hand, he took a large mouthful of the strong nutty flavored coffee and plotted how he was going to nicely ease them out of his short term rental so that he could get on with his day. The phone in his pocket vibrated. He pulled it out, and his face brightened when he saw who was calling. He stepped out on the balcony into the cool thin morning air and answered the call.

“Buddy!”

“Armie, where the hell are you? Are you gonna make it to my bachelor party in time?”

“Nick, the _Victoria_ is sitting in the Pacific. I’m wrapping up in Mexico City and flying to the coast to pick her up. I got help so that I can sail through. I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss your wedding for anything.”

“Okay man. See you next weekend.”

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Armie hurried into Nick’s living room, gripping his leather garment bag in one hand and a bottle of rare ultra-aged tequila in the other. 

“Armie, you made it for dinner,” Nick exclaimed. 

“Barely, all this interrogation and paperwork once we hit the US coast. That’s why I stay away from here.” Armie handed the bottle to Nick. “For you buddy, for later.” 

“Thanks man. Just lay your bags out there and we’ll deal with it later. You missed all the fun today, but we still have the evening. Right? The fellows are waiting at the club. It won’t be crazy tonight. Sophie threatened me, told me that I better be sober and ready tomorrow. Someone told her some crazy story about a groom who passed out at the altar on his wedding day and got a concussion. Actresses, they can be so dramatic!”

“Why does that story sound familiar?” Armie wondered out loud. “Anyway, I’ll keep an eye on you,” Armie promised, as they walked hastily out of the house and jumped into Nick’s sports car.

They arrived at the club, and once inside, they were escorted to the upper level to a private suite where the men would be dining that evening. A multi-course Italian feast would be served along with a pairing of premium Italian wines. With the exception of Armie, the group had spent a fun filled day partaking in all sorts of outdoor activities. They had built up quite an appetite and were enjoying aperitivo by the bar area, waiting impatiently for Nick to arrive with his high school friend, who had just arrived from Mexico. 

Nick and Armie walked into the anteroom, and everyone threw their hands in the air and cheered raucously like they were at a high stakes sports match. But Armie did not hear anything. His heart stilled and his feet froze mid-step. All he could see was Timmy standing amongst Nick’s friends, standing out like a spotlight was beaming down on him. Timmy’s mouth hung open slightly, equally shocked to see Armie. They had not seen or spoken in years, not since that ill-fated day when they parted in New York, and neither expected to run into the other so casually at a private event on a Friday evening in Los Angeles.

“You know almost everyone,” Nick said, slapping Armie’s back, nudging him forward. Armie purposely moved in the opposite direction from Timmy and greeted each of the men like he was an old comrade, making small talk about being held up with the coast guard and apologizing for not making it in time for the day's activities. The closer he got to Timmy, the faster his heart pounded in his chest cavity, and heat rippled through his body. Soon, he and Nick were standing before Timmy. 

“Cherub,” Armie exhaled in a soft whisper.

“Huh?” Nick said but quickly continued. “Armie, not sure if you ever heard of the great Timothée Chalamet—being out in the middle of the high seas half the time. Timmy and Sophie worked on a film together, and we all have become friendly. Timmy was in town doing some press work with her for the film. Lucky for us, he decided to hang around for the weekend for the wedding.” 

There was no way Armie was going to try and explain how he knew Timmy and why they had not been in contact. So, as calmly as he could under the circumstances, he held out a clammy hand, locked eyes with Timmy and said hello weakly.

“Hi,” Timmy returned simply and squeezed his hand.

“Let’s eat,” one of the men yelled. The others chimed in agreement, and they moved noisily into the dining room. Nick pulled Armie to sit next to him.

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Somewhere between primi and secondi, Armie fled the feast. 

He barely tasted the cheese and cured meats during the antipasto. He openly stared at Timmy, hoping that no one else at the table would notice and think it odd. He was grateful for the relative silence, as the men hungrily devoured their food and drank their prosecco. Timmy looked up as if he sensed Armie staring at him. Armie turned away, like he was some schoolboy with a childhood crush. When the platters of pasta had been polished off, he tried to steal another look. Timmy was the one to turn his face away that time. That was when he realized that he needed a break and excused himself.

In the restroom, Armie splashed cold water on his hot face and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He needed just a minute more of refuge. He could not believe how affected he was seeing Timmy after all these years. He really had to pull himself together. He reached for a cotton hand towel and wiped the drops of water and sweat from his face. He took a deep breath and walked out of the small room to see Timmy standing right outside the door. 

“Timmy!”

“Armie, hi...” Timmy tilted his head up at Armie and then looked around. “Can we talk a minute? Around there, maybe.” He pointed to a corner that led down a long hallway that was out of immediate sight. “Where we can have a little privacy.” They walked around the corner and stood in the narrow space. 

“How’ve you been?” They both asked at the same time. They chuckled, and without a second thought, Armie moved in and wrapped his long arms around Timmy’s shoulders. Timmy eased up on his toes, buried his face into Armie’s neck, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He wrapped his own arms around Armie’s waist and hugged tightly. 

“I remember _everything_ ,” Timmy whispered emotionally.

“Me too,” Armie echoed. 

He pulled back, raised his hand to the side of Timmy’s face and rubbed a finger along one of his prominent cheekbones. “You were cute before Timmy, but when did you get so fucking gorgeous.”

“Look at you.” Timmy placed a hand over Armie’s chest. “Even more handsome. And when did you bulk up like this. Shit, you’re hot.”

They laughed and rested their foreheads together. 

“How long are you here? When can I see you?” Timmy asked. 

“I leave Monday,” Armie replied.

“So do I. Can I see you Sunday? I’ll change my plans.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Give me your number.” 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Timmy arrived bright and early on Sunday morning. Hoodie on, he leaned against the rental car and watched, behind shaded eyes and arms folded across his chest, as Armie exited the gates of Nick’s home. “Good morning Big Guy,” he said and smirked. He opened the backdoor of the car, took Armie’s garment bag and backpack and tossed them haphazardly on the backseat. He opened the passenger door. Armie jumped in and immediately began to adjust the seat for his tall frame. Timmy slammed the passenger door shut, jogged around the front of the car, and jumped into the driver’s seat.

“Good morning,” Armie said. Despite the wedding festivities having run all night and into the early morning, both were strangely energized. They drank each other in with wide goofy smiles plastered across their eager faces. 

“So, where’re we going?” Timmy asked. 

Armie read off the location of the marina from his phone, and Timmy punched it into the GPS system. “It’s difficult finding a space to dock in this area, so it’s a little out of the way.” 

“Then we better get going. The traffic in this town is out of this world. I don’t want to waste our time together being stuck in it.” Timmy pressed the gas, backed up and took off, tires burning the arid pavement. When they hit the freeway, he pulled over to the left lane and put the pedal to the metal.

“You’re driving a little fast, aren't you?” Armie asked, arching an eyebrow. 

“Remember Big Guy, I’m a New Yorker. I don’t drive. I zip. Besides, we have a lot to catch up on.”

They rode in silence for a short while. Timmy stared at the road, focusing on the asphalt, as if on an urgent mission. 

Armie scraped his incisors over his upper lip, as he thought about how to ask Timmy his next question. Finally, Armie broke the silence. “So, the actress, Eiza, you two look seri—”

“No!” Timmy said swiftly. He pursed his lips and continued, “No, we’re not serious.” 

“You two looked pretty serious at the wedding yesterday,” Armie pushed.

“I know.” Timmy shook his head. “I have to take care of it. I don’t know how it got to be...well come across as being so serious so quickly. I think she, everyone actually, has been caught up in Sophie and Nick’s wedding.” Timmy shook his head again. “Yeah, I have to take care of it.” 

“Because...why, you’re not ready?”

“What about you?” Timmy abruptly turned the tables. “I heard Nick egging you on...about _twins_. If I recall correctly, and I’m pretty sure I do, I thought you were a one-on-one type of guy.”

Armie chuckled. “Just what I do to pass the time when I’m in Mexico City. They know that I’m not serious. I’ve made that clear.” He added in jest, “Besides, twins don’t count, since they have the same genetic make-up.”

“Really…and your partner? I follow you two, you know, when I can.”

“Oh Pilar. She and I are very close. I care about her very much. She helped me pick up the pieces after Daya passed away. She’s helped me with so much.”

“Daya is gone?” Timmy eased up on the gas pedal, pulled the car into a slower lane, and turned briefly to Armie. “Shit Armie, I’m sorry. What happened, when?”

“Almost five years now...the same thing that took her mother.” 

“Shit...shit!” Timmy slammed a hand on the steering wheel.

Silence filled the car. 

Eventually, the GPS directed them off the freeway towards the marina. 

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

“Wow, look at this. You named it after your mom. Armie, it’s beautiful!” Timmy exclaimed, as he looked up and his hoodie casually slid down over his curls and off his head. They stood admiring the shining vessel docked before them in the crowded marina. 

“I customized a few things. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kinda tall,” Armie said playfully.

“Oh, I’ve noticed. I’ve noticed a lot of things, Big Guy,” Timmy said as his eyes traveled the length of Armie’s body.

“Come on, let me give you a tour,” Armie said proudly. 

They boarded the private yacht, and Armie showed Timmy around, including the main deck, which felt deceivingly spacious and the lower deck which housed two cabins. 

“Don’t touch that. Diego will have my head.” Armie cautioned when Timmy marveled at some of the navigation controls. 

“And Diego is?”

“Skipper and friend. Taught me a lot about the water. He helps me out with open-ocean sailing and long distances. He’s with some of his folks up in East Los Angeles. He’ll be back in the morning, and then we set sail.”

Timmy stopped and turned around taking in the vessel. “Armie, this is great. But do you ever get tired of the water? What do you do all day?” 

“No, I love it. On trips like this, Diego and I alternate. When he’s at the helm, I rest up or work, prepare for my next project, work on side projects. Besides, I don’t really get to sail as much as I would like. Pilar keeps me busy. We’re barely finished with one project before we’re heading off to the next. When I get back, I have to travel down to the Guatemala–Mexico border.” 

“And are you and Pilar—”

“No. She’s in a happy relationship.” Timmy seemed relieved hearing this. Armie scratched his head and added softly, “But she’s like family. You know, family comes in all forms. I’ve been fortunate.” 

“Well, I’ve picked up quite a bit of Spanish, following you two, her journalism, your photos. A real team, correction, an award winning team.” Timmy said proudly, jabbing Armie’s forearm playfully. 

“You know, it was largely because of you why I chose to study photography. After Daya, I just wanted to get away. So, I went to Europe to study and give it a try. I met Pilar shortly after I arrived there. At first, I was just covering for a friend of hers on her assignments but by the time I finished my program there, I had become a photo-journalist, and we were partners going wherever there was a story to be told or heard.” 

When the tour was over, they settled in the dining nook off the galley across from each other. They decided to order lunch. Diego had replenished their food and supplies, but Armie did not want to mess with anything. The older man was a stickler and he would have Armie’s head if he messed with the supplies needed for their trip back to Mexico. Armie pulled his tablet out of his backpack and pulled up a menu for a local restaurant that serviced the marina. They settled on an order of fried calamari, fish and chips for Armie and a lobster roll and potato chips for Timmy. Armie rang the restaurant and placed the order for delivery.

Armie returned to the tablet and said, “I confess that I haven’t seen your films. So, I’ve been trying to download them so that I can catch up.” Armie pulled up the films on the tablet. 

Timmy put his hands over his face and said, “Don’t do that! You’re busy chronicling people’s lives—”

“Timmy, don’t simplify your work. You’re doing the same thing, just a different medium. You’re making people feel and think just like I’m trying to do. Is it what you thought it would be? Are you happy?”

“I still wouldn’t do anything else. I wound up signing a multi film deal with one of the studios. The roles weren’t the meatiest and the deal ate up a lot of my time. But it’s so much better now. I’m a free agent and getting really great scripts and opportunities. It’s tough, the business side, so, to remain sane, I try to make it all about the art.”

“So, this is what I downloaded.” Armie showed him the screen.

“Goodness, don’t watch this one and this one. Those were the ones I was talking about.” Timmy pointed at the screen and tried to delete them, but Armie stopped him, playfully pushing his arm away but then quickly withdrawing his own arm back once their skin came into contact. Timmy continued, “Okay, this one was fun. Oh, this one was good, and _The King_ , that was a good one too.”

Armie interrupted, “Okay, why don’t you put them in the order that I should watch them. But I’m telling you now, I’m going to watch every last one of them.” Armie laughed. Timmy carefully arranged his filmography in the order he would like Armie to watch them.

“I’m really excited about my next project. In a few days, I fly to Budapest to begin shooting _Dune_.”

Armie had never read the Franklin Herbert series, but he felt like he had. Nick, a sci-fi geek, discovered it in high school and the series was all he spoke about for a while. Nick would provide complicated summaries to Armie as he devoured each book.

“That’s great Timmy,” Armie said, genuinely pleased for him. “Who are you playing?”

“Paul Atreides, can you believe it?” Timmy said, hardly able to contain his excitement. 

“Are you kidding me? That’s absolutely great!” Then he said more to himself in wonderment, “Paul Atreides... _Dune Messiah_. How about that?” 

_He will be a king and then a messiah. It is then that his fate will be sealed. The applause will be thunderous._

Armie was about to reach over and hug Timmy, but caught himself, and stopped before doing so.

Noticing, Timmy asked softly, “That's the second time you’ve pulled away from me, why?” 

“Timmy…” Armie ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it into a slight mess. 

“Armie, talk to me.” Timmy reached out and ever so slightly grazed the tip of Armie’s index finger with his own.

“Timmy, I don’t know if I can. If I hold you again, I don’t know if I can let go. I’ve been a mess since Friday night. I don’t know how I made it through the wedding yesterday, watching you and...there is so much that I feel like I need to say. You’re the one part of my life that I haven’t really been able to move on from and accept. Like I haven’t made amends. Before Friday, I’ve been trapped in that conference room on Avenue of the Americas, seeing your face, your mother’s face...on repeat. I haven’t watched your films, I haven't followed you, not because I didn’t want to, but because I couldn’t.” 

“Armie…”

Armie stared at Timmy, his eyes damp. “I’m so sorry about everything, hurting you, your mother. You’ll never know how sorry I am.”

“Armie, I’m okay.” Timmy slapped his right hand over his sternum, as is to show just how okay he was. “Everyone is okay. We went on with life. I wanted to reach out, but the situation seemed so serious, even more so after I had to give that statement to the police. In the cabin, we were so isolated, but at the station, the gravity of everything hit me, paying people off, breaking and entering. I didn’t know what you were up against and did not want to get in your way or go against your uncle. He was at the station that day and he was taking no prisoners. You had already been through so much as it was. So I stayed away, then lurked from afar. But I never stopped thinking about you and our time together.”

The phone rang. Armie looked at it as if it was some sort of unidentifiable object. He answered it hesitantly. It was their lunch, forgotten by both as they dredged up the events from seven years earlier. Armie got up and retrieved the seafood lunch from the delivery person. He returned and laid the meal out on the table. He went to the refrigerator in the galley and pulled out a bottle of white wine and held it up for Timmy to see. “Interested? This is mine so I shouldn’t get any shade from Diego.”

They ate the seafood and drank the bottle of wine. Armie asked Timmy about his family, how his friend Saoirse was doing. Armie told him about Devon, how he had gotten closer to him. He gave him updates on his island home, how Redd now ran a successful rum distribution business, how Lujuria had to shut down due to legal issues stemming from its Wild Wednesdays but simply reopened under a new moniker. When lunch was finished, Armie cleared the table, and Timmy roamed about the yacht, looking closer at the details he missed during the tour, shouting out random questions he had about the vessel or what he was seeing to Armie. 

When Timmy returned to the galley, he held a lucite case gingerly in both hands. Safely displayed inside the case were two books—the tattered copies of _Death of a Salesman_ from Timmy and _The Outsiders_ from his mother. 

“I can’t believe that you still have this. You’ve owned it now longer than I did. You carry it with you?” Timmy asked incredulously, in awe.

“Yeah,” Armie said, a sheepish look on his face. “The case is to protect it, against the elements—heat, humidity. I finally saw the play, in London, and I still read portions of it in new places. But now, I use an e-reader.”

“Armie, you are fucking incredible.” 

Not holding back any longer, Timmy ran to Armie, and before either knew what was happening, their bodies were mashed together, and their lips—impatient and hungry for this reunion after so many years—rediscovered each other with a deep kiss. Eventually, reluctantly, Armie pulled back, ready to plead for Timmy’s heart, body, whatever Timmy was willing to give. But he did not have to say a word. Their need and arousal permeated the sea breeze and washed over them like a tidal wave. Timmy took Armie’s hand in his, and together, wordlessly, they drifted down into the master cabin. 

In the depths of the yacht, they undressed each other. 

Armie licked and planted wet kisses over Timmy’s face and smooth torso, and Timmy did the same in sweet reciprocity. 

As he moved to kiss one of Armie’s formidable biceps, Timmy marveled once again, “When on earth did this happen?” 

“You’re pretty fit yourself,” Armie pointed out.

“Endurance training, for filming,” Timmy explained.

They swayed over to the bed. 

Without hesitating, Timmy bent over Armie, swept the tip of his nose over his fuzzy chest, and trailed kisses down his body. He moaned as he took Armie in his mouth. Armie twined his hand through Timmy’s soft curls and tugged on them.

“Timmy, turn around so I can have you too,” Armie said, his voice, a little rough, a little choppy.

Timmy raised up easily on his two arms and curved his body around carefully. Armie grabbed his toned slim legs and nestled his head comfortably between them, holding firmly to Timmy’s hips. They took each other in their mouths simultaneously, pressed their eyes shut and sucked long and greedily, as if craving nourishment from the other. They lost themselves in memories of clinging bike rides that morphed into a nervous kiss at bedtime in an island bungalow and later raged unstoppably for hours on end in a secluded cabin in the woods. Their eyes popped open in surprise when briny warmth poured into their mouths and streamed slowly and deliciously down their throats. Hands gripping thick tanned thighs, Timmy collapsed heavily on Armie, and he simply laid there, unmoving. 

After a few minutes, Armie smiled, spanked Timmy’s rear cheeks, and then soothed them with a gentle circular rub before telling him that he should not stay in the position he was in.

“Why not?” Timmy challenged, then added more seriously, “Sometimes...over the years, I thought that I had dreamt you, I thought I had dreamt how I felt when I was with you, but I didn’t. Armie, I didn’t.”

Timmy swung around and crept lazily into Armie’s arms. 

They kissed again, tasting each on the other, and then fell into a deep comfortable sleep. 

When they awakened, night had fallen. 

They ordered a light dinner from the same place they had lunch earlier. They ate leisurely in bed and spent more hours sharing what they had been up in their years apart. Both had been very busy. Timmy shared how after Woodstock, he felt that he—his acting—had shifted, deepened somehow. After a successful run on the series he was working on at the time, he had landed a Broadway role that had caught the attention of many in the industry and press. That was the impetus for the film deal and after that one thing led to another. 

Armie filled Timmy in on what he had learned about his biological father and the long lasting legal battle with the Hammer family. He told him about how he cared for Daya and created research and scholarship funds in her memory. He shared stories, both sad and wild, about his work and adventures. When he brought up his side projects, Armie leapt up off the bed and skittered up to the main cabin to his bookshelf. He returned with a hardcover book, which he presented to Timmy and told him he could keep. The book, a photography book of great cascades and waterfalls, was aptly entitled _Cascada_. Timmy, a bibliophile at heart, swept his hand over the glossy cover of the book in reverence and flipped through its pages. He returned to the dedication page and paused as he read the words printed in elegant English script— _For Daya who gave me the instrument and Cherub who assured me I could play it._

Once more, Timmy pounced, proning Armie beneath him on the bed. He looked down at Armie intensely. 

Armie returned his fierce stare and murmured, “Timmy, no one has ever made me feel the way you do. No one has even come close.”

For a few moments, Timmy contemplated the words he wanted to voice. Finally, filled with admiration, he said, “Armie, life has thrown so much at you, repeatedly, but you never let its mist, now matter how heavy or murky, cloud you from seeing how awesome and beautiful waterfalls can be.”

When they felt the night slipping away from them, they planned optimistically for the future. By now, Armie was pretty sure that Timmy’s next film, when released, would change the trajectory of his career and his life. He knew that he would need to be there for him. He agreed that he would visit Timmy as soon as he was done with his project at the Guatemala–Mexico border. He would go anywhere in the world Timmy was, the furthest corners if he needed to. Timmy agreed he would visit Armie as his and Daya’s bungalow on the island after he wrapped up filming, and Armie promised they could take the _Victoria_ out on the sea, just the two of them. 

“I can be your first mate,” Timmy teased, wagging his brows suggestively. 

_You can be my only mate_ , Armie thought, and then shook his head wondering where such a decisive thought came from. 

They smiled widely, buoyed with happiness to have found each other, yet anchored with a promise and a plan to see and be together once again. Then, they yawned in unison, and at some point, in the wee hour, Armie wrapped his strong arms tightly around Timmy, and Timmy pulled them even tighter like he would a security belt before taking off on a journey. Snuggled this way, in each other’s arms, skin to skin, a duo cuddled in their ark, they dozed off once again and drifted to sleep. 

**~The End~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **By the Seaside Playlist**  
>  Part I  
> Nellie McKay ~ _Caribbean Time_ ~ https://youtu.be/-RBcNLYZHb8  
> Joi Cardwell ~ _Wet_ ~ https://youtu.be/I6t3T5kP37w  
> Donny Hathaway ~ _I Love You More Than You'll Ever Know ___~ https://youtu.be/IIegNRlNAi8  
>  The Cure ~ _Friday I'm in Love_ ~ https://youtu.be/HD9Q1lctyo8  
> Sting & Shaggy ~ _Morning Is Coming_ ~ https://youtu.be/xA3WpKLilPI  
> Part II   
> Jay-Z & Alicia Keys ~ _Empire State of Mind_ ~ https://youtu.be/QsZlY0Vz4-o  
> Serge Gainsbourg & Brigitte Bardot ~ _Bonnie and Clyde_ ~ https://youtu.be/Wa7wjr1NwhA  
> Jerimih ~ _Birthday Sex_ ~ https://youtu.be/vYMxOzxKYYo  
> ABBA ~ _Money, Money, Money_ ~ https://youtu.be/ETxmCCsMoD0  
> Coldplay ~ _Every Teardrop Is a Waterfall_ ~ https://youtu.be/fyMhvkC3A84  
> Part III  
> Elvis Crespo ~ _Suavemente_ ~ https://youtu.be/WPiEbYSF9kE  
> Michael Bublé ~ _Feeling Good_ ~ https://youtu.be/Edwsf-8F3sI


End file.
